Shadows Follow Me Down
by incense and peppermints
Summary: The Randle's past continues to haunt their present. Sequel to Inescapable Reality and Landslide. Complete.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

This is Inescapable Reality's sequel. You could probably read out of order, but you'd probably be less confused if you read Landslide and Inescapable Reality. The future sequel (Before I Fall) can be read whenever the hell you feel like it.

* * *

_Thursday, January 5th, 1967_

I never felt like more of a JD than I did now the way my teachers talked about me, and the worst part was it was bullshit.

I never hurt somebody. Never stole or vandalized a damn thing either. I'd done _nothing_ that had ever earned my brother the same title. My only crime was this: I kicked off the new year flunking every subject, and my attitude was making me "increasingly difficult to manage." Apparently I didn't care anymore. I was carelessabout my schoolwork and everything. Mrs. Fox headed up this argument, of course. She headed up the "she's going to repeat a grade" argument too. Her shrill voice still wrung in my ears from when she demanded my presence at their after school meeting. _There's no way you can make up all the time you missed if you keep it up, _she said. _You are bound to repeat seventh grade. _What I wanted to know was why I needed to be here if they'd already made up their minds.

They'd called my father here for the special occasion, too, and he could hardly speak he was so livid. He'd even bothered to clean himself up—face, shaved; clothes, washed and ironed. I should be proud of him, but all I could think about was this could damn well be the last hour of my life, and here he was dressed like he was preparing to give my eulogy.

I sighed and tapped my fingers against my knees. He sat with his arms crossed, just nodding at everything they said, but each word brought a new shade of red to his face, and when he spoke, I couldn't bear to watch. I sunk my face in my hands.

"Maybe she missed a lot of school. I can't deny that, you got your proof on paper right there, but you can't tell me she ain't—_isn't _smart enough to make it up." I looked up. He sounded like he was trying real hard to sound professional, but when he scooted his chair closer to mine and extended his arm around me, I knew what he'd meant to say was, "Fuck you for thinking she can't."

He wasn't mad at me; he was mad at them. I didn't know what to say. Maybe I wasn't crying on the outside, but on the inside I was bawling like crazy, and the way he tried to comfort me in front of all of everyone made me feel worse. He needed to start warning me before he acted like a father.

"I know my daughter," he continued, arm still around me, "and I know she's smart enough to do the schoolwork of two years in one if she had to, so believe me, you just tell her what she missed, and she'll get right on it."

"No one is saying your daughter isn't smart enough, Mr. Randle," Mr. Hanson said. "We simply have some concerns about her ability to complete this year given the unfortunate circumstances you outlined when I called you this morning."

"She will." He sounded so confident, it was hard to process. I didn't share the same enthusiasm, and I never once thought I could say he believed in me more than I believed in myself.

"With all due respect, sir," Mrs. Fox began, but Dad wouldn't let her finish her thought. He was doing a terrible job remaining professional, but I didn't care. It meant so much he thought I was capabl, and he felt so strongly about it, he couldn't refrain from resorting to colorful language.

"I'm sick of hearing this bullshit," he said. "She ain't a retard, so where's the goddamned fire? You don't think you can teach her? If you can't teach her, you shouldn't be a teacher period."

Everyone fell silent.

"I'm sorry," he muttered and looked up at all of them, paling. "I just don't appreciate being told things I know ain't true about my daughter."

"Mr. Randle, I assure you that's not the case," Mr. Hanson said. "We know she's plenty intelligent, but some here have expressed concerns about her attitude—"

"If she has an attitude problem, you let me know, and I'll straighten it out, but she ain't repeating seventh grade."

"If you remember, I had called you about a few of these issues..."

I held my breath. That wasn't him they had talked to; it was Steve pretending to be Dad.

Dad shook his head and stuck to his guns. "Believe me, I'll squash whatever attitude there is when we get home, but you can't hold her back a grade."

"Well, I certainly hope we don't have to, sir," Mr. Hanson said. "That was the purpose of this meeting."

"Thank you." Dad stood up awkwardly and pulled me to my feet. "I appreciate this. I do, but we had better get going."

"Miss Randle, could you stop by my office before your first class tomorrow?" Mr. Hanson asked me kindly as my father rushed me towards the door.

I nodded and slunk out the door with Dad before I could catch anything else they said about me.

xxxx

The ride home was silent. I wanted to thank him for sticking up for me, but I didn't trust I was out of hot water yet. He did say he was going to "squash my attitude". Whether he meant that or not, I didn't know, but I knew he had a nasty habit of making up for all the things he'd forgotten to do in one move, regardless if that was an act of kindness or a punishment.

When we got home, he told me to go to my room. Not good. This was headed straight where I suspected. As I walked there slowly, I caught him enter his room out of the corner of my eye, and I feared he was walking in there to grab a belt, something he'd generally reserved for Steve when he was younger. Compared to him, I was lucky. Compared to Angela, I was luckier. Her mother and long line of stepfathers threw whatever was handiest at you, or if they were in a worse mode, beat you with it, but Dad must've thought he should go easier on me since I was a girl. Today, I wasn't lucky. Today, he wanted to make up for everything he'd forgotten to do, and I wasn't sure what he was trying to accomplish or why he thought I wouldn't notice how unfair it was. Well, I was aware, and I was damn bitter about it, bitter enough that rage kept me from shivering in fear when he walked in.

Only he had nothing in his hands. He'd simply changed his clothes from what had to be the nicest outfit he'd owned to the faded casual attire I was used to seeing him in.

"Why're you lookin' at me like that for?" He sighed as he sat down, less irritated than his words would indicate. "I just did you a huge favor."

I sprang up and glared at him from a few feet away.

"Julia," he said sharply. Now the irritation was there.

I took a deep breath and looked up. "If I'm in trouble, can you just go ahead and punish me already? Go ahead and hit me. Tell me how long I'm grounded. Just don't make me wait."

"What makes you think you're in trouble?"

"You said you were gonna squash my attitude," I said. "I believe it was those exact words."

"No, I just wanna talk to you, but if you get any mouthier, I can arrange that, so you better watch yourself." He pointed a finger at me and tapped it to the bed. "Now sit your ass back down and hear me out. You're the child and I'm the adult. Remember that."

I sat back down and held my tongue. Lately, it felt like the other way around. When he was drunk at that gas station in Kansas, he sure wanted me to help him out like I was supposed to babysit him or something. Not to mention he had been gone until yesterday. _Yesterday_ was when he bothered to come back and move in Carol and Shannon. This room wasn't just mine any more; Shannon's toys were sprinkled all across the floor in random piles.

"Now I don't think it'd be fair to punish you when it's my half fault you missed so much," he said, voice strained. "I only said that so they'd come off their high horses and take me seriously for a second."

So he only said it to make it look like he was doing his job as a parent, to make the meeting more convenient for him. I should be glad he wasn't screaming at me, and yet it felt like he'd thrown me under the bus. I started whining something ungrateful under my breath, but caught myself a second later. He acknowledged he was wrong, that this was his fault, and that acknowledgment should mean something. Maybe not much, but it was good to know he was slightly concerned about being fair.

"I meant what I said, young lady." He grabbed my arm and squeezed it tightly in his fist. "I was wrong, but you need oughta learn to speak to the adults in your life respectfully. If I dare get a call from the school about this attitude of yours, it ain't gonna be pretty."

I nodded and tried to free my arm from his hold.

He held on a second longer. "You're walking a thin line."

"And so are you," I burst out before I had a chance to think about it. "You think you can just come back here and take over everything like you were never gone? Like you ain't a—" _complete screw up_, I finished in my head, but I couldn't bring myself to say it the way he was looking at me.

He let go of my arm and wiped the trickling sweat off his brow. "I know," he said, much to my shock. He had this pained look in his eye too. "I know, honey."

"Then why'd you think you could try and lecture me?" I folded my arms and lifted an eyebrow at him.

"I get it." He glanced away, looking forlorn. "There's so much I don't even know where to begin, but I'm trying to make it right. Can you cut me just a tiny break? I'm tryin'. I'm tryin' so damn hard. I ain't perfect, alright? And I know that, but I'm still your father, and I still love you."

_Try harder_, I thought indignantly, but when he reached out and pulled me into a hug, some of the frustration melted away. Not all. Just enough I was pissed I wasn't more upset, because I should be. I shouldn't want to forgive and forget, and I wouldn't.

Not until he kept a promise for a change.

xxxx

Carol tapped her foot impatiently as she lorded over the dining table and the supper she'd prepared for us. "Charlie," she called out a third time. "I got the kids here ready to eat and you're still missing."

She'd only been her a day and a half and was already referring to us collectively. I looked to Steve. He rolled his eyes and grunted in annoyance.

I flipped Carol the bird when her back was to us.

Shannon gasped, recognizing the gesture apparently, but Steve clapped a hand over her mouth before she could whine about anything. Silence was not hear strong suit.

She bit his hand in retaliation, and Steve mumbled a string of cuss words and stared her down in an effort to intimidate her. She just sat their with her arms crossed and wailed "Mom" at the top of her lungs.

"Steven, don't cuss in front of your little sister."

"No need to worry, I hear him cuss all the time," I said, which she did not appreciate.

"Don't cuss in front of either of your sisters," she corrected herself and marched off in search of our father.

It was clear to me then she was keeping a tight leash on him. Maybe she was the reason he was trying to get his shit together, and I found it odd. How was it that someone like her was married to a man now in prison if she was so good at keeping somebody in line? That wasn't to say I liked her. It just didn't make sense.

Shannon balled her hands into tiny fists and shook them at me and Steve. "You need to be nice to Mom."

"She ain't our mother."

"I'll tell Dad on you."

"No one likes a tattle tale. You wanna have any friends in kindergarten, you better stop doing that fast."

"Daaaaad," she screeched, but he never replied or returned with Carol for that matter. She came back to the table alone and announced he wasn't feeling well. When she sat down to eat, Shannon immediately explained how I'd wronged her.

Carol shook her head at me disapprovingly before I got a chance to explain myself. I shot out of my chair, prepared to leave.

"Julia, sit down," she said.

"I'm not hungry."

"I don't appreciate your attitude."

"I don't appreciate you tryin' to act like my mom," I told her, inching further away. "You're not, and as long as you understand that, we might be able to get along."

Steve lifted his eyebrows at me. I wasn't sure if that was a sign he was impressed or a warning I was crossing a line.

"If you walk away from this table, that's your last chance for a meal tonight," Carol said.

"That's fine." Tears brimmed my eyes, but I stuffed them back inside me. She didn't need that satisfaction. "I already said I wasn't hungry anyway."

I bolted for my room thereafter, but before I shut my door, I heard Steve defend me. "You're an idiot if you expect her to adjust overnight," he said, inciting their first major argument.

It didn't take long for Dad to jump in, and I buried my head in my pillow, certain this new living arrangement was doomed.

xxxx

Steve rescued me from my room just as Shannon invaded it. I'd have to get used to it. She wasn't invaded when we "shared", but for now, I wanted to mope.

"I thought for sure Dad'd have kicked you out for arguing with her like that," I told Steve as I followed him to his room.

He shut the door behind us and shrugged. "She wouldn't have it. Imagine that. Said no father should ever do that to his son."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Annoying, ain't she? You just ignore her, you hear? Just ignore her. Fight, an' you'll just fuel her will to mother you."

I wanted to tell him that was easier said than done, as he should know. Like hell he was gonna take his own medicine, but I didn't argue. I was just relieved he'd saved me from Shannon. He'd even set a plate of food on his night stand for me.

"You can sleep here tonight if you want," he said. "Can't be easy getting used to having that brat as your roommate, huh?"

"You mean that?"

"Yeah, I'll be headin' to Soda's here in an hour anyway. Can't take this big happy family crap no more. And eat your damn sandwich already, will ya?"

I lifted the plate into my lap and picked at it. I was afraid Steve would be spending more time at Soda's now, just like he had the three years Rosie lived with us.

On the upside, I could borrow his room whenever I wanted. The less I had to share with Shannon, the better. Maybe it was wrong of me not to welcome her warmly, considering she was my little sister and all, but Steve was right. They couldn't expect me to adjust overnight.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I stared and stared at Steve's ceiling. He left one hour ago, and I already missed him. It wasn't fair he could leave so easily when I was just as fed up with the "family" as he was, but I needed to stop bitching. So I hated my new step mom. So lots of kids hated their stepmothers.

"What're you doin' in here?" I heard my father and sat up.

He was standing over me with his arms folded. "You've got your own room, don't you?"

I shrugged and studied his face, wondering if he was drunk. He was swaying a little, but with him it was hard to draw the line between drunk and normal. Sometimes I couldn't tell how intoxicated he was unless he was raging mad, puking his brains out, or passing out. He could seem fine, sober even, and then out of a blue, a switch would flip and you'd know he was blitzed.

He leaned close to my face and snapped his fingers near my ear. "Hey, I'm talkin' to you."

"Steve said I could use his room while he was gone," I said, fighting the urge to snap my fingers back at him.

"What's wrong with your room?"

"Shannon."

"I was afraid that was it." He shook his head disapprovingly. "I'm surprised at you. Thought Steve'd be the one I'd have to tell to watch himself, but no, this time you're the one throwing tantrums an' he's—"

"Shut up. Weren't you just arguing with him?"

"Excuse me, young lady?" he countered. "Did you just tell me to shut up?"

"I heard you." I jumped to my feet and tried to make myself as tall as possible. "You were gonna kick him out, too, an' he told me himself you would've if Carol hadn't told you not to!"

"Maybe, but only because I didn't need his interference by you." The veins in his neck bulged as he spoke, and his muscles twitched he was trying so hard not to yell at me. "I agree he had a point. You need time to get used to it, and that's fine, but you will not act like a spoiled brat just 'cause you hafta share your room."

"Shannon's way more brat than me." His words had deeply wounded me. I wasn't a brat. Maybe a bit selfish in all this, but not a brat.

He looked up to the ceiling and clenched his fist at his sides, like he was trying to demand help from a higher power to deal with me. "She's been through a lot," he said. "Just … please try to be patient."

"And I haven't? I've been through quite a bit too." Selfish or not, it had to be said.

"I know, baby." He reached out and pulled me back in front of him by my wrists. "Why do think I was so mad at the school today? I'm on your side here. I just want you to give Carol and your little sister a chance. You got used to Rosie eventually."

I shook my head.

He tried to level me with a look, but I stood my ground. "At least you dated her a while before you married her."

"I dated Carol for a long time."

"Not recently."

"We _were_ serious, Julia."

"I don't remember that." I did remember. Vaguely, but I did.

"Serious enough we would've stayed together if she didn't think Shannon was another man's child."

"Oh, that's right." I lifted an eyebrow and clicked my tongue against my teeth. "She cheated on you, didn't she?"

He looked down, ashamed. "That ain't an appropriate thing for a father to discuss with his daughter."

"How many women has it been now?" There was Mom, Jack's Mom, Carol, Rosie, and who knows who else. I couldn't let it go.

"That ain't your business."

That was where he was wrong. "Actually if you have kids with them, it kinda is my business."

"I dunno what you're talkin' about, little girl, but consider this your last warning. I've had enough of your sassing for one night."

"Well, I've had enough of your lying for a lifetime." The words rolled off my tongue with ease, and it was beginning to scare me how much I had enjoyed watching these reactions. The rush of adrenaline propelled me forward and made me ignore the nervous churning in my stomach. One more comment. One more dig. I wanted to know how far I could go. No wonder Steve picked at his faults all the time. It was a sick form of justice, and Dad deserved every minute if it. "You sure you don't know what I'm talkin' about? What about Jack?"

I watched carefully as he fumbled around his pockets for his pack. He got up and stole a lighter from the top of Steve's dresser. "I dunno what to even do with you anymore." The cigarette bobbed up and down as he struggled to lecture me and light up at the same time. "You're as bad as your brother."

"Maybe we learned it from you," I muttered to myself, unsure if he heard me or not.

He pointed the cigarette at me and shook it. "You're grounded."

"How long?"

"You're grounded," he hollered louder, as though I hadn't heard him the first time.

"Yeah, I _heard_ you. I said how long?"

He struggled to keep the cigarette steady as he pulled it away from his lips. "You're just... you're just grounded, damn it! You know what I mean. You know how that works. You're grounded."

"I do, but you clearly don't," I said. "You have to tell me what I can't do and for how long. That's how grounding somebody works."

He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he just shook his head in defeat. I watched him a few more moments, and that was it. He was done. I'd reached the end. I was in clear, but the victory didn't feel worth it.

My hands went as cold as ice cubes, and I stuffed my pride away long enough to apologize before I lost the urge to do it. "I'm sorry, Dad," I whispered. "It's just I saw the letters Jack sent... Steve showed me while you were gone."

He stubbed the cigarette out and staggered back to the bed. He crouched down in front of me. "That why you're actin' like such a little shithead to me?" he asked, as gently as someone could accuse someone of acting like a shithead.

I nodded.

"Well, I got good reason for that," he assured me. "Let me ask you this, you think it's fair for me to tell you about him if you'll never get to meet him?"

I didn't understand what he was getting at, but I didn't wait a beat jumping his throat. "What the hell kind of excuse is that? That sounds like you just don't wanna own up to what you did!"

"You wanted honesty. Well, that's the honest truth. His mother's got a restraining order against me."

"What? Why?" Restraining orders were for the likes of Angela's mother's ex boyfriends, _not_ my father.

His eyes watered. "Damn it, I dunno."

I huddled Steve's sheets and blankets around me. I had no desire to berate our father anymore. I just sat in a ball, hoping he'd leave because he was drunk, and I grew queasier to think I managed to fight with him as much as I had without him losing it on me.

He paced near Steve's door, stumbling and catching his balance three times. I wrapped the bedding around me tighter and flinched when he started babbling what I assumed was his usual drunken nonsense, but what I heard ended up so much more.

"Dunno what the hell I did to deserve it," he said. "After I got that first letter, I wanted to work out a deal where I could see him sometimes. Told her she could have custody. I just wanted to see him once a month, but I couldn't even have that. He wasn't supposed to know me at all, she said."

He stopped there, and my heart sank. No wonder he never talked about this, and it could only be the amount of alcohol in him that he was even willing to discuss it now.

"She was raving mad his grandmother gave him my address." His voice started quivering. "Her mother hated me more than anything, but even she knew it was wrong to keep Jack from ever knowing his father. I shouldn't be tellin' you this." He tossed his hands into the hair and paced faster. "Why the hell'm I talkin' you to about this? It ain't right. It ain't right at all."

I examined his words one by one, trying to piece together the story from what Steve had said earlier to what Dad was telling me now. "But Steve never said—"

"Your brother hears what he wants, Julia. He was so mad I was arrested he hasn't let it go long enough to listen." He stopped pacing and leaned against Steve's dresser, tripping over his all his words. "I … I didn't mean to get arrested. Didn't mean to yell at her. Or _shove_ her. Christ, I just … just wanted to see my goddamned son. Is that a crime? Does a man not have a right to know his son? But it don't matter. They told me I was an unfit father after that, and next thing I knew, you and Steve had to live with Rita."

I wasn't prepared for this. If that was true, I should've spent less time resenting him. For the longest time, I thought he'd given us away by his own will. Steve claimed he'd given us away, but maybe that was what six year old Steve thought, and seventeen year old Steve was too stubborn to admit six year old Steve was wrong.

"Nice he kept writing me in secret," Dad continued, voice lifting a little. "Don't think he's supposed to do that under the agreement. Never could write him back of course."

"But Jack's an adult now." Jack could make his own decisions then and write if he wanted? Once he was an adult, did the restraining order still matter? I remembered Angela telling me once that Tim delegated someone else the task of getting revenge on their mother's ex because he wasn't adult yet and their mother had included her kids in the restraining order. He didn't want any legal trouble to come of it. Didn't want anyone accusing him of violating the order by conspiring with his mother, or something like that, but then again Tim had a record a mile wide before he was sixteen.

Dad was silent.

"Shouldn't he be able to contact you if he wants?" I asked cautiously.

"I can't take any risks," he said resolutely. "He's an adult now, sure, but she's got money. All kinds of money like you wouldn't believe. She could get herself a fancy lawyer, and I don't wanna lose you and Steve again. I ain't takin' that risk. It was hard enough gettin' custody back..."

I didn't know what to say, so I just hugged him.

He squeezed me back so tight I thought he was trying to crush me. He reeked of booze, and the smell pushed another wave of anger through me. He was just as drunken and sloppy as he'd always been, and I knew, if this marriage failed, it was probably going to be his fault.

Somehow, though, I managed to stuff the hatred back inside me. If he hadn't been drunk, I might've never learned what I had.

That he never wanted to send us to Rita's; he'd only done so because he had to.

I wondered if Steve would ever be capable of seeing that.

xxxx

I tossed and turned for an hour after Dad left, and when I finally passed out, I was startled awake moments later. This time it was Steve.

I sat up quickly and caught my breath. "Damn it, you scared the shit out of me."

"Well, it is my room, so deal with it," he said, flipping the light on.

I rubbed the pain out of my eyes from the brightness. "Thought you were gonna stay the night at Soda's," I said groggily.

"Yeah, well, let's just say he's in an awful lot of trouble with Darry right now."

"What happened?"

"He crashed his truck."

I blinked. "What?"

"You bet."

I stared at him, dumbfounded. Steve had control issues about driving. Why were they driving Darry's truck in the first place? Why not Steve's car? "How?"

"Well, Garrett was cracking jokes about how beat up the old thing is, and Soda got pissy about it." You could tell by the way he said it he was irritated with Soda himself. "Soda told him it might look like a hunk of junk, but he could still beat him in a drag race. Of course I told him it was stupid. Like that engine could hold up to anything over fifty, but Soda was dead set on upholding the honor of his old man's truck."

That name sounded so familiar. He probably hung out with Tim or Curly.

"It was a disaster waiting to happen. Darry was so mad, he asked me to leave so he could _murder Soda without an audience_ as he put it. Hell, even Ponyboy didn't try to defend him."

"Wow."

Steve snorted and broke out in nervous laughter. "Blame their dad. He used to tell us all kinds of crazy stories about what he did with that truck. Made it up probably. Mrs. Curtis to smack him over the head with a magazine whenever he started doing that... Boy, she hated that."

I nodded and glanced away. Even if he was laughing, it was still hard to look at Steve whenever he talked about Soda's parents. You could see just how much his missed them, how much they were like the parents he never had. The awkward silence that followed his laughter was very telling.

"So Dad gave me a lecture about how he wants me to be nice to the brat," I said, hoping to change the subject to something we could mutually rant and rave about.

Steve took a seat beside me without a word.

"He said I was acting like a brat," I repeated for him. "Can you believe that?"

"Yeah, actually."

"Ugh, you gotta be kidding me," I moaned.

Steve slapped my arm lightly. "Hey, calm down and let me finish."

I rubbed at my arm and glared at him, but I kept my mouth shut.

"Now Dad don't want me to tell you this, but I think you oughta know."

"Know what?"

"Her stepdad went to prison for more than just drugs," he said. "He was sick man, Jule."

"Sick how?"

Steve went white and looked away from me before he continued. "Sick as in he slept with underage girls..."

"_Oh_."

"Carol doesn't know for sure, but she thinks maybe... I dunno."

I held up my hand. He didn't have to say any more. God, I wanted to hate Carol. I should hate that man, but how could just choose _him_ over my dad? And if that bastard thought Shannon was really his, how could he—

I shook my head at Steve. I could hear Dad's voice replaying in my head; _she's been through a lot. _"I, um..." I hesitated. My heart was beating so fast. "I hope Soda doesn't die tonight," I added and shielded my face in embarrassment. Now it sounded like I could care less about our sister.

"Yeah, bet Darry's still yelling at him." He chuckled, welcoming the subject change with open arms. He went on to threaten he'd murder me and dig me out of the grave just to have another go at me if I just so much as scratched his car. I didn't doubt it.

I got up with an eye roll and moved towards the door, sensing it was time for me to leave.

"Hold up," he called out before my fingertips reached the doorknob. "I almost woke up Dad when I came in. Unlike you, I know how to be quiet, which means you have no chance."

I rolled my eyes again. I was quieter than him _any_ day, but I didn't argue. It was gonna be hard to look at Shannon the next time I saw her; the longer I could delay it, the better.

xxxx

_Friday, January 6th, 1967_

The next morning I sat on the bench outside Mr. Hanson's office and bounced my feet until my toes were numb. I had nothing to worry about. The only teacher who was furious with me was Mrs. Fox. Mr. Hanson had been completely calm. Even as Dad yelled at him, he was calm, but at least my nerves kept my mind off last night.

The door squeaked open. I stared at the floor and waited to hear my name. "Now I expect you to be on your best behavior, young lady."

"Sorry," I muttered, but he wasn't talking to me.

"You hear me, Miss Shepard?"

I looked up. Indeed it was Angela.

She looked bored but gave him a small nod.

"No lucky breaks for you," he warned her in his strictest teacher tone. "You put one foot out of line, and you'll be answering to me. No excuses this time around. I will _not_ have any repeats of last year."

"Sure thing, Ernie," she said with a salute. "Believe me, you got nothing to worry about. I love Jesus now."

"_Mr. Hanson_," he corrected her. "And you better pray to Jesus no one sends you to the office, or you might just meet him. I'm afraid I've turned the other cheek for you one to many times."

I snickered at his comeback. Even she was mildly impressed. "Touché, Mr. Hanson," she told him and flipped around, smirking at me as she strolled into the hallway.

She was back. Angela was back.

Mr. Hanson cleared his throat behind me. "Miss Randle."

I turned to him. "Yes, sir?"

He motioned for me to come into his office, face bright red, and every inch of his body tense. _Way to put him in shitty mood, Angel_.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Mr. Hanson quickly shut the door behind us and pointed to the chair in front of his desk. "Have a seat, Miss Randle."

I sat and watched him as he walked around the desk. His gait was stiff, and when he reached his chair, he remained standing for a minute, peering down at me with his hands on his hips. "As you just saw, Miss Shepard is back in the public school system." He let out a tiny huff of air that wasn't quite a sigh, but enough of a reaction to know exactly how he felt about her return. He was just too professional to admit it. "If I remember right, you two were friends."

I swallowed and nodded.

He grinned at me and finally settled himself into his seat, much to my relief. He was a big, muscled man. Even if you weren't in trouble, you still feared for your own safety when he towered over you. I'd bet he never had to discipline his own children. Just the threat he could had to keep them in line.

"Now it may not be in my formal job description to give young ladies advice on who their friends should and shouldn't be, but I'd reckon you'll walk yourself into a whole lot of trouble following her around. I think with your situation, it might be in your best interest to steer clear of her. Keep yourself out of trouble, you here? Considering all you've been through, you're doing remarkably well, and I don't want to see that change."

I stared at him with a blank expression. It was probably in my best interest to have never been her friend in the first place, but it was too late now. I cared about her and wouldn't abandon her, especially now that she might be pregnant. She _needed_ me.

"If you stay on top of your schoolwork and keep making up the time you missed in detention, I don't foresee any problems," he continued. "But I do hope you realize there'll come a point where I can't cut you any more lucky breaks than I already have, and Angela, she—"

"I know, I get it, she's bad news," I said.

"Excuse me?"

"Sorry, sir." I stared at my lap. I hadn't meant to cut him off, but I'd heard enough of these lectures for a lifetime. She was a bad influence, and I didn't care. Her influence wasn't as profound as they thought. So she introduced me to bad things. Big deal. I choose to go along with them in the end. They were my choices, my decisions. I could still be her friend and keep my hands clean, or I could dive right into whatever mess she was creating, but it was on me, not her. She didn't make me do anything. I used to think so, but it was only a nice excuse—a way to not feel responsible for my actions. _Angela made me do it_. She was great for that.

When I met his eyes again, his face was nearing the same shade of red it was when Angela had left his office. "I'm sorry," I said again. "I just hear that a lot."

"If you hear it a lot, there might be some truth to it. You ever considered that?"

"Sounds like something my brother would say," I muttered.

"Wait a minute, you mean your brother Steve?"

"Yeah, Steve. Remember him?" I asked facetiously. Of course it came as a shock to him the student he wanted to most forget about was actually a bossy hypocrite when it came to his little sister.

"If Steve thinks you need to steer clear of someone, you really ought to," Mr. Hanson said. "And yes, I do remember him. Bright kid, but he sure had a mouth on him." The way he looked at me then told me he wanted to draw a comparison between us, but he didn't. "Now, onto the real purpose of this visit..." Mr. Hanson pieced through a stack of papers on his desk and set one in front of me. "I've rearranged your schedule for the remainder of the year."

I leaned forward and skimmed through the names of the teachers. Nearly every one was the same with a notable exception—Mrs. Fox wasn't there. That was a pleasant coincidence. I wanted to hug him for sparing me her wrath, but then I noticed something else. He'd placed me in the resource room one of the hours. The resource room, or _The Retard Room_, as all my classmates called it. I scowled.

"As you can see, you'll have more time during the day to account for what you've missed," he said matter of factly. "I've also arranged for a student to tutor you after school. Miss Rachel Mathews. I do believe you know her."

I slapped my hand over the schedule on the desk and shoved it back in front of him. "I won't need any tutoring, thanks. I don't need to go to the resource room either."

He simply scooped the schedule up and placed it front of me. "You'll need this to know where you're going today, and as for tutoring, the option is there, should you need it. Rachel assured me she'd be happy to help."

Of course she did, but the keyword was _should_. _Should_ I need it. Rachel could go to hell, and I didn't need to go to the resource room any more than I needed her tutoring, but I somehow managed to pull myself together and sat quietly, keeping my opinions to myself,

He wrote me a hall pass to my first class, and I accepted it in silence. I guess, that was the difference between me and Steve. I knew how to cut people down, but I also knew when to shut up. I wasn't sure he'd ever learn that skill. That was why Mr. Hanson would remember his mouth for years to come, but maybe if I was lucky Mr. Hanson would eventually forget about me.

I raced out of his office as fast as I could without looking suspicious. If I ran too fast, they'd think I was trying to skip, but really, I just wanted out of there. I made me maybe fifty steps down the hallway when Angela popped around the corner.

I should've known she'd be waiting for me.

She looked self-satisfied. She had plans.

"Good morning, Julia," she greeted in a mock cheery tone as she hooked her arm into mine.

"Jesus, Angel. I'm already late. Whatever you want, save it for after school."

She shook her head. "Can't wait that long."

"Of course you can't."

"Come to lunch with me. We're going to that new café by the bowling alley."

I pushed her arm out of mine. "You and _who_?"

"Bryon, Mark, Candy, who knows who else..."

If Candy was going, I definitely wasn't going."Your friends with Candy again?"

"Don't worry, still hate her," Angela said as though it was nothing. "But I guess she an' Bryon fancy each other. Perfect for each other, don't you agree?"

Last I heard, she said she'd break up with him on her own terms. I guess that time had come sooner than I expected. "You're officially broken up now?"

"We agreed it wasn't working out." She tugged me towards the girl's bathroom nearby. "We agreed to be friends."

"Friends?" I questioned, resisting her pull. I dug my feet into the tiled flooring and grimaced.

"Yes, _friends_. Is it that hard to believe?"

She kept yanking until I nearly tripped. I gave up and followed her. Once the bathroom door shut behind us, I crossed my arms and shook my head at her. "You sure this ain't just another breakup where you'll be back together by the end of the month? Ain't that how every breakup ends for ya?"

"Hmm." She planted her chin into her hand and tapped her finger against her month, giving the illusion she was thinking hard about this, but I knew she wasn't. She was just giving me a hard time for questioning her plans. "Not sure I care either way," she concluded.

"Oh, that's right, you _still _plan on lying to James."

She grabbed my arm, her nails biting my skin, and glared at me. "I already told you, it was just an idle thought. Nothing's for sure."

It wasn't an idle thought. She claimed it was. Right after Christmas. She'd given me another pack of cigarettes and piles of makeup as gifts and begged me not to take everything she'd told me seriously. She wasn't in her right mind, she said, but when was Angela ever in her right mind? I just couldn't get over it; that she could even suggest doing something that cruel to someone.

I ripped my arm out of her grip. I wanted to slap her too, but I didn't.

"Besides, I've been thinking anyway." Something changed in the way she carried herself at that moment. Her eyes darting away from me.

"What?" I asked.

She trailed her hands down the front of her body and rested them over her stomach. "Maybe having a baby wouldn't be such a horrible thing."

"You mean you wanna be a mother now? You _hate_ kids. All you ever say is how much you hate kids."

"I still do, but I could get used to it maybe," she mused, voice far away. "If it were my own, it might be different. No one really hates their own kids. My mom's kind of lousy, but she still loves us."

"Really?" The look on her face told me she was serious about this, but it was still hard to tell when she was being serious and when she was voicing these "idle thoughts".

"Hell, I dunno," she broken down. "You and I both know if I started bleeding like a stuck pig this very second, I'd leap for joy, but I'm just sayin', I ain't gonna try to ... you know, get rid of it."

I wasn't sure she even could. Well, never mind, I remembered her telling me a horrific story about how some women went to really desperate lengths to get rid of their babies, but somehow, as crazy as she was, I didn't think she'd be capable. I wasn't sure why I thought that, but I did. I'd defend her if anyone tried to say she had.

She pulled herself back together in a matter of seconds, back to her usual smirk. She elbowed my arm. "What do you say we cut now?"

"_No_. God, they're already talkin' me repeating a grade. I can't miss—" I couldn't finish my sentence. I was interrupted by the loud shrill of the bell. What a coincidence. What a terrible coincidence.

"You just missed all of first period, and who cares if you get held back. I already have been."

Yeah, apparently she didn't like to talk back in kindergarten. They thought she was deaf or stupid, but she just didn't see any use to doing the work. It was too easy for her or she was too stubborn. Probably both, but it was weird to think she'd once been selectively mute when she was the loudest person I knew now. "C'monn," Angela nagged. "We should sneak out now. They won't notice us with all the kids in the hallway."

I had already missed first period. She had a point, and Dad... Based on what I'd seen yesterday, he wouldn't let them repeat me, would he?

xxxx

Angela drug me up and down downtown before we ever reached our final destination, and as it turned out, she lied. We weren't going to any new café; we were just bumming around some abandoned lot. Maybe her brothers claimed it as their territory. I didn't know, but all we did was stand around and smoke, and for what? Just to skip class? It seemed stupid to me.

"Is Bryon comin' at all?" Candy complained for the hundredth time.

Angela flicked her ashes at her. "Face it, Candace, he pussied out."

"Don't talk about him like that," Mark said.

Angela laughed. "What, your friend, excuse me _brother,_ ain't a pussy?"

Mark took a few steps closer to her. "I said don't talk about him like that."

"Well, if he's not comin', I'm bookin' it," Candy huffed and stormed off.

No one bothered chasing after her.

"You really think _she's_ better suited for 'I'm?" Angela asked him.

"Clearly, he's got terrible taste in women."

It was a clear insult to Angela, and it almost irritated me enough to say something to him, but I held my tongue. It looked like Angela was enjoying the argument.

"That really think about me, Mark?" she asked, not fazed at all by what he'd said.

He had a smug look about him. "Oh, what I think is worse."

She inched closer to him and reached into his pocket.

He tried to push her way, but she'd managed to snatch a small bag of something.

"Hey, knock it off," he said. "Damn it, not _now_."

"I already paid for it." She took it and tossed whatever it was in her purse.

He leaned close to her ear, whispering something about me. I could tell by the way he glanced at me. He looked nervous.

"Please, Julia's harmless. She ain't gonna say nothin'." She looked at me. "Will you?"

I shook my head.

"Jeez, it's just grass," Angela went on, completely unashamed. "Ain't nothin' wrong with it. Might not be legal, but she already said she ain't gonna say nothin'."

Mark still looked uneasy.

"She ain't a nark," Angela assured him, clapping a hand against his shoulder. "You can trust her. I trust her, and that says something."

I wasn't sure what it said about it, that I let her get away with things. It was unsettling. We'd been hanging around Mark for a while—well, _she_ was hanging around Mark more—and now she was buying from him? How long had this been happening? Had she gotten the joint she smoked in my bedroom from him? I always assumed she stole from her brothers, but I guess I'd been wrong.

Angela and Mark argued a few more minutes. He was deeply frustrated with her. Maybe it was more that she'd broken up with his friend than what had just happened, but it was the first time I'd seen him this angry. He was always friendly and looking to have a good time, but right now, he wanted nothing more than to wring her neck, and I didn't blame him.

"Mark, I really won't say anything," I interrupted them. "Honest, I ain't that kind of person."

He jerked his head to me, stunned I'd intervened.

"See?" Angela taunted him.

His eyes grew wider and wider until I realized it wasn't me he was shocked about. It was whoever was behind me, and Mark split so fast I'd have thought it was the fuzz, but it wasn't.

No, maybe even worse.

Tim.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"Well, hello there, Ti-mo-thy," Angela drawled out, emphasizing each syllable of his name. "I take it you felt like ditchin' too?"

"Angel, what're you doin' here?"

"Skipping. Ain't it obvious?"

He shook his head and took a few strides closer to her until there was less than a foot between them.

She stepped back, but he seized her arm and pulled her back in front of him. "Damn it, Angel, what the hell're you doin' here?"

"Skippin' class."

He stared her down, never once breaking his gaze to glance in my direction. He wanted to interrogate her and only her, and here I was relieved as hell yet frozen in terror out of sympathy. He made me uneasy. I felt awkward around him even if he was being nice. Many times I'd tripped over my words and struggled to sit still any time time he entered the room. He must've thought I was crazy.

Angela glared back, but beneath her tough girl demeanor, she was afraid. I could see it in her eyes, and I think he did too because he released her arm a second later. "Ma's gonna have a brain aneurysm before you ever reach adulthood," he said coolly. "You care to notice how she's been beside herself since she found out you got expelled from Catholic school? You ever care to think about someone other than yourself?"

"Assuming you don't give her a heart attack first."

"We're talkin' about you, not me," he reminded her, pointing his finger directly in her face.

She slapped his hand away and stomped her heel down against the pavement. "Excuse me, brother, but does it not appear we're doin' the exact same thing? We're cuttin' class, ain't we?"

"You're cuttin' for no reason other than to skip. I, on the other hand, have my reasons."

"Tim, I don't think he's showin'," Curly called out as he turned the corner into the lot. "Well, well, well, our little sis. I'm _so_ surprised." He raised his eyebrows and dropped his jaw in feigned shook.

Intrigued by what he'd said, Angela whipped around to face him. "Who ain't showin'?"

"None of your damn business," Tim said to which Curly chuckled.

"Hey, Angel," he called out to her. "The hell're you doin' here anyway? Is is like Tim says or do you really have a reason?"

"You never did answer me," Tim reminded her, poking her in the arm.

She flipped him the bird, deliberately and slowly taking her time to tilt her finger up before thrusting her hand in his face. "How's that for an answer?"

Tim cuffed her upside the head, and she shrieked like he'd punched her.

"You feel like cuttin' class, you stay the hell away from here, you got that?" he said.

"If it's your territory, why does it matter?" She rolled her eyes for the millionth time. "Obvioulsy no one's gonna mess with me 'cause they know you."

"One these days someone's gonna mess with you _because_ they know me, and they know what they've heard from their buddies 'bout you."

Her face blanched, and she propped her hands on her hips in an attempt to conceal her embarrassment. "I dunno what your talkin' about, but don't I appre—"

"You know damn well what I'm talkin' about. You gotta be careful, Angel. How many times do I hafta say it 'fore you get burned?"

"Don't talk about your own sister like this."

"Every time I hear it I hear it, I wish it ain't true, but—"

"Tim, shut up. Angela, shut up," Curly's voice cut through the tension. You could've heard him from a mile away.

He stepped between them. He'd done this a million times before. "Knock it off, both of you."

Angela was the first to react. She cursed at him and shoved him, and he slapped her back, far harder than Tim had hit her too.

She froze, more shocked than terrified.

"What part of shut up don't you understand?" he asked her.

She glared at him as she rubbed her cheek, but she listened. It always amazed me how Tim was a billion times more threatening in what he said and did, and she brushed it off like it as nothing, but all Curly had to do was say it once, and this time it was worse because he'd actually hit her.

"I don't have time for this shit." Tim turned to Curly. "Take her home, will ya? And Julia too."

Curly didn't answer right away. He glanced away and scratched at the side of his head.

Tim grabbed the collar of his jacket. "I said take them home, you deaf piece of shit."

Curly pushed Tim away. "Fine, if that's what mellows you out. You need to calm the fuck down, Tim. You really do."

Tim caught his balance and shoved Curly back twice as hard. "You tryin' to tell me you think it's a good idea to have them here before … _you know_."

"Yeah, alright, I get it." Every inch of Curly was shaking in hopes of revenge, but he held off, stepping away from Tim and motioning for me and Angela to follow him.

Tim caught Angela's shoulder before she could step forward and held her back for a second. "We'll talk more about this later. Don't you think for a second this conversation is over."

Curly groaned and pivoted around. "Yeah, I'll bet she's _real_ scared, Tim."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"Careful what you wish for."

"Calm down," Curly said. "Before you kill somebody."

Tim looked like he was about to start a full on fist fight with Curly, but his brother's insults must've had some impact on him because he released Angela's shoulder and let us walk away in peace.

xxxx

Angela bitched out Curly every step of the way home. He tuned out most of it, which had to be on purpose. The more frustrated she became, the more self-satisfied he looked, but her anger paled in comparison to her mother's.

"Angela Grace, you better not have gotten suspended," Patricia boomed, rushing towards the entryway, as though she'd been expecting this.

"You skip out on work, I cut class," Angela offered with a shrug.

Curly elbowed her, but she didn't take the hint. "Maybe you oughta practice what you preach, Ma."

Her mother slapped her across the face not once but twice and hard. My jaw twitched in sympathy. First Curly. Now this.

Angela exhaled a shaky breath and tried to shield herself, only to be slapped a third time. "It was supposed to straighten you out," her mother cried. "And you'll get yourself expelled from public school too now, won't you? I didn't raise you to be like this."

She raised her hand again, but Curly stepped forward and pulled his mother back before she could strike Angela again. It was a struggle. She fought him fiercely, but he prevailed. "That's enough, Ma, she gets it," he said and then to Angela. "Just go to your room like she said.

Angela scurried away. She seemed upset, perhaps even terrified. I moved to chase after her, but Curly held up a finger for me to stay put. I shook my head at him and he mouthed "Don't move" at me. Why I didn't know, but I listened.

"What the heck're you doin' out of school yourself, young man?" his mother asked him, and I braced myself for another fight. I wasn't sure I could handle it. Watching her beat on her children again like that.

"I was on lunch period when I ran into her," he explained with ease. "Been on good terms with the principal lately. Letting me have open lunch period again, but I'll be back in afternoon classes this afternoon, trust me."

She ate up his bullshit so fast, I nearly puked. It was a good kind of relief, but there was something unstable and weird about it. "I'm so sorry, honey." She pulled him into a hug, damn near tears. "It's just your sister always finds her way under my last nerve. Thank you for bringing her home. You're such a good kid."

Curly pried her away gently. "You been drinkin', Ma?"

She answered in a broken, messy slur of words I couldn't make out over her sobbing.

"Alright, alright, why don't you take a nap or somethin'?" Curly guided her towards her room.

She nodded and walked herself the rest of the way with her face in her hands.

Curly watched her until she disappeared behind her bedroom door and thrust his fingers into his hair. "Sorry you had to see that."

I wasn't sure why he was sorry. I felt sorry for him. He kept the peace around here, and it had to grate on him.

"C'mon I'll walk you home." He bobbed his head to the door. "Let's go."

"You don't have to." I blushed, still embarrassed by all I'd seen. "I can walk myself."

He grabbed my jacket sleeve and tugged me out the door with him. "Let's just say if your brother catches one word I let you walk home by your lonesome, that'll be the end of me, so I'm walking you home."

I curled my lip under my teeth and kept my feelings on the matter to myself. I should just be grateful he was taking me far away from the chaos, but all I could think about was Angela and how she was holding up.

"So I've been meaning to ask you." We weren't even ten feet away from their porch, and he cut straight to what he wanted to hear. "What's goin' on with my sister? I know something's up. She won't tell me, but I know she talks to you."

"Oh, you know," I dismissed him with a nervous laugh. "Just her average boyfriend troubles. Bryon, James. You know, the usual."

"James's the usual?"

"I thought you knew?"

"Knew she fancied him," he said tiredly. "Sure teased her about it a lot, but me an' Tim thought she was playin' that just to get under our skin. James says his hands are clean at least... Might have to beat it outta him. Trust your word over his. You ain't much of a liar, are ya?"

"Could you maybe just talk to him? Instead of beating him up?"

Curly snorted. "Don't worry about it. I look forward to it. Hell, James probably looks forward to it too."

I grimaced, just thinking about it. At least James could hold his own.

"So about Angela," he continued. "No way that's all. There's somethin' more."

"I dunno what you're takin' about. She's no different than usual."

He stopped dead in his tracks and halted me too. "How can you say that as her best friend?" he demanded. "Now either you ain't as good of a friend as you think you are or you're lying, an' I'll bet it's the second, ain't it?"

I clenched my hands into fists and looked to my feet. "Curly, I dunno. I can't."

"Can't what?"

"I keep her secrets," I said, but I still couldn't look at him. "I _am_ her best friend, and that's what a best friend does."

"What if it ain't in her best interest? Would a best friend do something if it ain't in her best interest?"

"I guess not."

"Well, all I know is I ain't seen her like this since our dad left," he hissed near my ear. "Now're you gonna help me out or what?"

I was too frustrated to speak. I glanced at him, hoping he'd relent.

"Sorry, it's just I've had this suspicion for a while now, an' now I know I'm right."

"What?"

"Shoot, if nothin' else was standin' out, the way you're actin' is a dead ringer." He paused, nervous about what he was about to say. "She's pregnant, ain't she?"

"No," I shouted at a loss for anything else.

"Then you tell me what," he dared.

"No, she ain't pregnant!"

"Then I think I have my answer," he said bitterly.

I clutched at my stomach, trying to catch my breath. I'd worked myself up so much, I was out of air. Where'd I go wrong? Where'd I screw up? Where'd I cough up the information?

"C'mon, let's go." Curly tugged me forward gently. "You stand around like that all day, and I'll never get you home."

"Angela ain't pregnant," I told him, trying to undo the damage. "Curly, you gotta listen to me here. She really ain't."

"You're an awful liar," he told me, completely unconvinced. 'You oughta learn a trick or two from her."

Curly trudged on, dragging me with him each step of the way. He was furious. Whether with me, Angela, or James, I couldn't tell. Probably all three, and I regretted skipping now more than ever. If I hadn't come, none of this would've happened.

Curly let go of my arm when we were within a block of my house and walked alongside me until we were reached my driveway.

"Thanks for walking me home," I said and made a break to run inside.

"Wait, Julia."

I kept moving.

"I just wanna say thanks," I heard as my fingers closed around the doorknob. "I know you didn't wanna tell me, but I'm glad I know."

I opened the door before he could say anything more and slammed it behind me in relief.

"Why ain't you in school?" a voice rumbled from the kitchen.

"Why ain't you at work?" I called back, which was stupid. It hadn't worked for Angela, and I might end up slapped too.

"Work?" Steve asked.

Oh, great, it was Steve. He stepped into the living room and looked at me he expected me to spill my guts.

"Well, I thought you were Dad," I started.

"No shit, but what the hell're you doing here? Christ, I come here to grab a quick lunch with Two-Bit, and guess who called? Your principal. Imagine that."

Just then Two-Bit popped his head around the corner and waved at me.

I waved back and pouted, hoping offer something up in my defense. He smirked, somehow amused by this.

"You wanna explain why you're here and not there?" Steve asked.

I defaulted to the most unoriginal excuse ever. "I'm sick."

"Sick how?"

"Just sick."

"She does look kinda pale, Steve," Two-Bit pointed out.

If I did, it was embarrassment over what had happened, but I'd landed upon my saving grace, so I wouldn't question it.

Steve walked up to me and tilted my head up until our eyes met. "Why didn't you just tell 'em you was sick if you were sick?"

"I thought they'd think I was fakin'," I explained, disgusted at how easily the fib rolled off my tongue. "'Cause of how much I missed, you know."

He patted my shoulder and nodded.

He believed me. He actually believed me.

"Don't worry, I'll call 'im back and explain," he said. "Tell 'im I didn't believe you at first either. I mean, pretending to be Charlie, of course."

"I can do that if you want," Two-Bit offered.

Steve shot him a look.

Two-Bit shrugged. "What? Your ol' man's fun to imitate."

"Yeah, alright," Steve agreed and nudged me towards the couch. "C'mon, you should probably lay down or somethin'."

I swallowed and walked right over to the couch before he could guess I was faking.

We listened as Two-Bit made the phone call. He told Mr. Hanson an elaborate tale in which I projectile vomited over everything in our house, and it worked like a charm. So much so he rushed over to us and high-fived Steve as soon as he hung up.

"Nice story, Two-Bit," Steve congratulated him.

Two-Bit took a bow and moved for our door. "I dunno about you, but I'm out."

"Sure you don't wanna stay?" Steve asked. "Hell, she probably wouldn't mind if you watched TV with us all afternoon. Perfect opportunity to skip, no?"

"Hmmmm," Two-Bit drawled and shook his head a split second later. "Gonna have to pass on that, buddy."

"You're passin' up an opportunity to skip?"

"Yup. Laurie's my lab partner in Biology today." Two-Bit winked. "Literally and figuratively speaking, of course. We'll be doin' an awful lotta observation and examination if you caught my drift."

"In the classroom?" I chimed in. "That even legal?"

Steve pinched my arm and snapped his head back to Two-Bit. "Do us a favor and keep those kind of details to yourself." _  
_

Two-Bit nearly doubled over he laughed so hard. "Gee, Steve, your sister digs okay, but you don't."

"Get the hell outta here 'fore I deck you."

"Feel better soon, Julia," Two-Bit said, ignoring Steve.

Steve waved him on. "Bye, Two-Bit."

Two-Bit saluted him and snickered as he slipped out our front door. As soon as the door was shut, Steve covered his mouth. He was laughing; he just didn't want me to see it.

He got up and flicked on the TV. "Ah, shit," he groaned.

"What?"

"Looks like it's Lassie reruns for us today."

"Hey, Lassie ain't so bad." I liked it a lot when I was young. Honestly, I still liked it and watched new episodes whenever I had my say over which channel we watched. Unlucky for me, CBS came in the fuzziest at our place.

Steve didn't tease me about it anymore, which only served to remind me he believed I was sick. Soon, the guilt would make me sick for real, and what was even more pathetic was I made it through exactly ten minutes of TV before I spilled all. Well, mostly all. Not the bit about Mark or Angela's mom, so maybe not everything, but Curly. I told him Curly knew.

It took him a while to process. Probably because I sounded like an idiot when I spoke. "Angela's bothering you that much, huh?" Steve rested a hand on my shoulders. "Listen, it's probably good thing he knows. If it was you, I'd wanna know."

"I dunno, Steve, her brothers ain't like you." I wasn't sure what I was trying to say. Her brothers weren't awful. They cared about her a lot, but Steve seemed more ... supportive maybe? I couldn't put my finger on it, but I knew I could count on him to help me out, even if I had walked myself into trouble like that. He'd probably be the best help I would find, even if he'd chew me out first. He'd be the best and the worst help wrapped into one. "She's gonna hate me for coughing it up," I told him miserably.

"C'mon, you don't know that yet."

Maybe not for sure, but it'd be an even bigger shock than Steve's eerie calmness.

"Honest, Julia—" Steve began, only to be interrupted by Carol's entrance a moment later.

She set a bag of groceries down. "What's goin' on?"

"She ain't feelin' well," Steve said.

"Oh, you poor thing. You do look awfully pale," Carol said, walking towards us. "Steve, you can head on back to school now. I can take care of her, so you don't have to miss anything more."

"I'm already here, and she'd want me to stay." He stood up and helped me to my feet. Come to think of it, once standing, I _did_ feel queasy, but it was probably just the afternoon I'd had. "C'mon, Julia, you should probably be in bed." Steve eyed Carol crossly and rushed me off to his room instead of mine, which didn't bother me. My room still felt more like Shannon's than my own.

Carol looked bothered, but she didn't say anything about it.

Steve shut the door and pointed to his bed for me to sit down. "You owe me huge. Remember this next time you wanna get pissed at me."

"I will." I fixated on his carpet to avoid looking at him. If he looked half as mad as he sounded, I didn't wanna see it.

He sat down beside me and looped an arm around my shoulder to my shock. "Shoot, you're real shook up about this, ain't you?"

"You have no idea. She's my best friend, and I let her down."

"Hey, I have a bigger clue than you think," he pointed out. "I just went through this with Evie if you remember, so don't act like you're so special in your turmoil. Messed her up so bad she broke up with me. She wouldn't even talk to me until last week, you know."

"Oh." I'd forgotten all about that. "She talked to you?" I asked hopefully.

"Yeah, we might be gettin' back together soon actually." I could hear the immense relief in his voice, but he didn't talk about her long. He changed the subject back to Angela and refused to answer anything I asked about Evie.

"I'm glad you're spooked about this. You really oughta be."

I buried my face in my hands, frozen at this terrible impasse of tension. I wanted to cry because it might be nice to get it out, but everything was too pent up.

Steve noticed my frustration and tried to calm me down, which I appreciated, but he didn't get very far.

Not even ten minutes later Dad burst in, demanding to know why we'd upset Carol.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I looked to Steve and waited for him to answer. Knowing him, he'd come up with a good explanation on the spot. Better than I could at least, and Dad was fuming mad, already slipping back into his old grouchy self. I expected it, yet felt betrayed. Yesterday was a rarity, but it was supposed to be a breakthrough; not a catalyst to a harsher let down. It stung worse to know he was capable of better when he rarely showed it, and ironically, it'd be less emotionally taxing if he'd just be an ogre all the time. That way I wouldn't have to feel guilty for hating him.

"One of you talk," he ordered. _  
_

Steve looked Dad directly in the eye. "Why don't you go ask her yourself? We ain't mind readers."

"She said you don't like her," Dad said. "What the hell'd you say to make her think that? Sounds like you were giving her the same kind if lip you give me, and I tell you what, I ain't gonna tolerate that."

"Nothin'," Steve told him. "We said _nothin'_."

Dad stepped closer to us, shoulders back to look threatening. "You got three seconds to tell me what happened or you're both in trouble."

Luckily Steve spoke, so I didn't have to."Christ, I ain't gonna fight with you over something this stupid." His voice was strained, like it took every ounce of willpower not to start a fight. "This is crazy, Charlie."

I wanted to tell Steve I was proud of him for taking the high road, but I was afraid it'd piss off Dad.

"It ain't crazy," Dad said sternly. "It ain't crazy at all. Whether you like it or not, she's your stepmother now and you have to respect her."

"People have to earn respect respect, Dad," I said and waited anxiously on his response. I was terrified to be honest, but not terrified enough to told my tongue. Dad needed to understand that he, Carol, and anyone else he brought home couldn't demand respect just because they were adults.

Besides, Steve was here if anything went wrong. I'd like to think I'd say it regardless of that, but his presence gave me the confidence.

"She's got a point," he readily backed me up.

Dad hurled his fist against Steve's dresser. He looked ridiculous, but he was too upset to care, and kept on in his angry display.

"Charlie!" a voice screeched from the hallway.

Carol marched right up to Dad. "What the hell are you doing?"

Embarrassed by his outburst, he returned his fists to his sides and forced a tiny smile.

"You didn't listen to a word I said, and now you're throwin' a tantrum?" she asked.

He blinked several times and struggled to maintain eye contact with her. "I heard you loud and clear," he said, trying hard to sound rational. "You said this arrangement wasn't working out so well and that my kids don't like you. Well, I won't tolerate them disrespecting you. I'm just having a little talk with them about it now."

"But they weren't," she told him. "It's just this family is so cold and distant, and nothing I can do changes that. Your kids still hate me no matter what. It's frustrating. That's all I meant by it, you don't have to fly off the handle and yell at them! They'll hate me forever if you do that."

She was wrong about us hating her. Well, me at least. I couldn't speak for Steve. I didn't hate her. I might've thought it a few times, but it wasn't true hatred. Just annoyance. There was a huge difference.

Dad was speechless. He scratched the side of his head and took in a shallow breath.

"And you never did answer me," Carol continued. "What're you doin' home so early? If your hours continue like this, we won't be able to pay the bills off your salary alone."

"I already told you you wouldn't need to get a job," Dad assured her. "We talked about this, didn't we? You can stay home. I'll earn enough we'll be fine. Don't worry about it, honey."

"If I had dime for every time Ed ever told me not to worry about somethin', I'd be a very rich woman. Least you came home now. He never did that, but I _am_ getting a job, and you can't tell me otherwise."

"Carol, come on, let's talk about this," Dad pleaded. "Let's not jump ahead of ourselves."

"What? You got a problem with me working too?" she asked.

"I just don't think a woman should have to," he replied in a failed attempt to sound gentlemanly. "I'm your husband and I should be able to provide for you. Having a job is stressful."

"You don't think I could handle it?"

Dad's eyes widened, and he shook his head. "No, no, I didn't mean it like that—"

"It sure sounded like you did," she said, eyes narrowed, tapping her foot again the carpet impatiently. "I tell you what, I turned my ex husband in, I testified against him in court, and I supported Shannon on my own for a whole year before you even came back into the picture. I think I can handle a damn job."

"Carol," Dad started, but she was already walking away. "Carol, wait!"

She turned around right before she reached the door and shot him one hell of a glare. "If you wanna argue some more, fine, but we're doin' it somewheres else. I won't argue with you a second more in front of your kids." With that, she turned around and shut the door behind her.

Dad stood there for a moment, looking lost, staring at the ground. "Sorry. I jumped to conclusions. You ain't in trouble," he said quietly and excused himself out of the room.

_Wow_ was my only coherent thought_._ Carol had just earned my respect. The way she told off Dad gave me hope we might get along one day.

"Holy shit." If it was possible, Steve looked even more shocked than me. "I'll probably regret saying this later, but I think I like her. Better than Rosie at least."

I nodded firmly in agreement.

"Don't tell him I said that," Steve added a second later. "Don't you _dare_ tell him I said that."

I smiled at how serious he sounded. I wouldn't say a word, but I found it funny Steve didn't want Dad to know he liked his new wife. It was like Steve always had to be against Dad in everything he said and did. If Dad was happy about anything, he couldn't let Dad know he was happy for him. That was asking too much in his books, and though I understood why—he had every right to resent our father and then some— it seemed silly sometimes. He went out of his way to show Dad how much he resented him.

Still, there wasn't much I could do about it. My brother was the worst kind of stubborn. He not only heard what he wanted; he did what he wanted in every regard.

xxxx

Steve maintained the lie I was sick. At first it was annoying. Being sick meant I was confined to a bed, but I was grateful once I figured out it'd get me out of another family meal. Steve then claimed I wanted his company to get himself out of the same. Even with new found respect for Carol, we weren't on board with "the family" yet, so we shared a very bland meal of crackers and soup in his room, of which he ate the majority.

The lie was becoming reality; the longer the day got, the sicker I felt. I hadn't slept well in weeks. It was fitting I'd get sick sooner or later, but maybe it _was_ just nerves. Curly knew, and I couldn't get over that. I refused to believe it was a good thing. The worst part was her pregnancy wasn't official. I'd been begging her to see a doctor for weeks now to find out once and for all, but she wouldn't. She was afraid the doctor would tell her mother, but maybe she should be more afraid Curly would out her secret. He wouldn't, though, would he? Maybe to Tim, but Tim had be about the last person in the entire universe Angela would want to know.

I had to talk to her. It was too late to warn her, but I needed her to know I didn't tell Curly on purpose. It become an obsession. "I gotta go see her, I gotta talk to her," I blurted out, hopping to my feet.

"That came out of nowhere."

"I have to."

"Woah, kid, sit down," Steve said, miming with his hands for me to sit. "You go see her, they'll know you were lyin' about bein' sick."

"Maybe you can cover for me though? Just for an hour."

"Hell no."

I sighed, the corners of my mouth drooping into a frown.

"Before you pout at me, it ain't even possible for me to cover for ya." He poked my arm in annoyance. "I can't account for your missing body. Think about it. They walk in here, ask why you ain't here, what am I gonna say? She vanished into thin air?"

I crossed my arms and gave him a dirty look. "I dunno. Stuff a bunch of pillows under the sheets and say it's me?"

"I tried that once when I was thirteen. Didn't work." He clapped a hand to my shoulder. "Face it, Jule, you're stuck here til morning. By then you can claim you slept off the bug, but for now, enjoy the lie."

"How can I enjoy it when I know Curly's bitching out Angela?" I almost yelled at him. "Damn it, Steve, I have to go see her."

"Listen to me for a sec—" he started.

"_No_."

He pinched my arm and leveled me with a glare. "Listen, I'd be damn shocked if he were bitching her out."

"You'd be bitching me out if it was me." He couldn't deny that. If he denied that, he was a liar.

"No, I wouldn't."

"Sure you wouldn't."

"I wouldn't," he repeated. "Honest, I'd be so lost I wouldn't even know what to say to you, let alone … Just I wouldn't bitch you out, okay? Let's get somethin' straight here. I bitch you out _now_ in hopes I _never_ have to see that day, you got that?"

I was unsure what to say. He was truly offended by the suggestion, and now I felt awkward.

"Believe me when I say the only person he's truly pissed at right now is the boy who knocked her up," Steve said, so sure of his answer. "You oughta be worried about what he'll do to him. Now that's a real concern. Wouldn't be surprised if he lands the offender in a hospital bed."

I hadn't thought of that. Only Tim would be smart about how he got his revenge. He'd make sure James paid and that neither he nor Curly was charged for it, but Curly wasn't that calculated. He just went for it.

"See what I'm talking about?" Steve asked.

I nodded.

"Good," he said, getting up. "Now I gotta get goin'."

His announcement crushed me, but then I remembered it was a Friday night, and I should just be glad he'd spent _some_ of his night with me. "Where're you going?"

"Promised Soda I'd help 'im fix up Darry's truck tonight."

"You mean it's fixable? You made it sound like he'd totaled it last night."

"Looked worse than it is," Steve said with a shrug. "The engine's in tact at least. Probably'll look like shit, but it'll run alright when we're done."

"Well—"

Steve held up a hand to silence me. "No more questions. I'm already ten minutes later than I said I'd be. You take it easy, you hear? No sneaking off to Angela's for you." He'd said the last part in jest, and he shouldn't have. It almost propelled me to do it more.

"Why would I do that?" I asked, yanking fistfuls of my hair, mostly frustrated because I actually was thinking about it.

He didn't answer me. Just said he'd see me later.

I curled up under the sheets and stared out the window, imagining myself being brave enough to sneak out. It was rash, stupid, and bound to get me in trouble, but it was all I could think about. If I could just talk to Angela for ten minutes and convince her not to hold me responsible, it'd be worth whatever trouble I got in.

_Steve warned you_, I tried to reason with myself, but I began to scheme even more about how I'd do it. First, I'd wish my father and Carol goodnight. That was the most important step. There were no guarantees they wouldn't check on me later, but if I let them know I was okay upfront, they'd be _less _likely to. Then, I'd make Steve's pillows look like my body in the bed as a back up. If the first part failed, it would fail too, but it didn't hurt to try. Finally, I'd leave the window open a tiny crack, just enough I could let myself back in without having to use any doors.

It could work. That wasn't to say it would, but it'd get me to Angela's, I'd clear my name, and after that, I was willing to put up with the consequences. I took in a deep breath and watched my hands shake as I exhaled. Several minutes passed, and here I sat, hesitating like crazy. Okay, so maybe I was a little nervous, or _a lot _nervous, about consequences, but I couldn't let the fear stop me from doing it.

She needed to know I hadn't meant to spill her secret. She couldn't think I was against her.

I _could_ do this. I _would_ do this.

xxxx

Everything worked out beautifully until I arrived at the Shepard's.

I reached their porch and damn near collapsed I'd ran so fast. Curly was sitting on steps smoking. "I need to talk to Angela," I told him frantically.

He gave me quite the look when he noticed me. "You make it a goal in life to show up at the most inconvenient times?"

I clutched my stomach to catch my breath and shook my head. "I need to talk to Angela."

"Not happening."

I lost my patience then and flat out snapped at him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't talked to her yet."

_Well, too damn bad_, I thought bitterly, but then I processed it a second more, and a wave of relief crashed over me. I plopped down on the step beside him. "Oh, thank God. Don't tell her I told you."

"The hell would I do that for? After all, you didn't tell me. Ain't your fault you wear the truth all over you."

"I wish I didn't," I said miserably.

"Hey, it ain't such a bad thing. It's why Tim likes you."

"Tim likes me?"

"Well, sure," Curly said. "Likes you best of all her friends. Says he knows if she's lying whenever you're standing next to her, and he's right."

I hid my face I was so mortified. Coming here was a stupid idea. Whatever confidence I had had left me. I swallowed the lump in my throat and turned to Curly. "You should know. She don't know for sure if she's pregnant. It's just speculation."

"You should go home," Curly told me, ignoring my words. "I'mma talk to Angela in a few minutes, and you don't wanna be there when I do. We got a lot to talk about. Tim got himself arrested again this afternoon, and she don't know yet. Last time he got off with two nights jail and fine by some grace of God, and he blew it. This time they ain't gonna be generous."

I'd almost forgotten about that. That was just before Christmas, and Angela tried to drag me out for a night of drinking only to get pissy when Curly told her we shouldn't. That was right before she told me she was pregnant. She showed up on my doorstep that very night and dropped everything on me. "What'd he do?" I asked.

His voice grew distant, cold. "Can't tell ya that, but I do owe you a thank you. If I hadn't been walkin' you home, I'd have made it back to the lot in time for the fuzz, so thanks I guess, but you can forget all about your thanks if you don't scram soon."

"Okay," I said, standing up.

"Come back tomorrow." He looked up at me earnestly. "I mean that. You're a great friend to Angel. She'd probably appreciate seein' ya, and it'd do me quite a favor. She ain't gonna be pleasant, you know. Tim'll probably be put away a long time. Surely he can't get lucky twice when he's been picked up back to back, so you know she's bound to be upset about it on top of, well, her personal troubles."

"I will," I promised him and scurried off before I bugged him anymore. Poor kid had a lot of deal with.

I walked as fast as I could, determined to get home before my plan flopped. It was dark out, and I was second-guessing every step I'd taken, especially whether or not I'd left the window open wide enough to get back in. The uncertainty drove me crazy. I wavered back and forth. Back and forth until I'd worked myself up so much I decided I couldn't go home in case I was locked out. It was late on a Friday night, meaning Dad probably had had a few drinks by now, meaning … I didn't wanna think about it. The risks I should've considered beforehand were clear now, and the solution to my problem was a problem in itself.

I'd go to the Curtis's. Steve had once told me they never locked their door. Even if no one was home, I could get in, and that was comforting; their house was closer than mine, and every creak and rustle was amplified as I walked through our neighborhood alone.

The only problem was Steve. If he wasn't there now, he would be there later.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

When Pony answered the door, he couldn't have looked more surprised to see me, if not annoyed. He didn't show it on his face, but his shoulders were slumped, and he had a book tucked under his arm with his finger jammed between the pages, suggesting I'd interrupted his reading.

"Hey, Julia, Steve's at the DX with Soda if you're lookin' for 'im."

I hung my head down to the ground and avoided eye contact with him. I hadn't thought this through at all. Couldn't even offer a "hello", and Pony had to be wondering why the hell I was standing here, but it was better than going home. Better than pressing my luck with Dad.

"Did, uh, something happen?" Pony asked.

I looked up and shook my head.

"You okay?" He looked concerned, and my silence wasn't helping.

My hands trembled. "Yeah, I just ... I snuck out."

"Pardon?"

"I snuck out," I repeated, a little louder. "And my dad … He ... Forget it."

"Steve's told us plenty about him." Pony opened the door wider and waved his hand for me to come in. "You can hang out here 'til he and Soda come back."

I followed him in reluctantly. I could only imagine all the horrible things Steve had told them about our father, and even though most of it was true, I felt the need to defend him. There was a reason I was afraid to go home, but Dad wasn't a monster. Pony was inviting me in out of pity, and I couldn't stand it.

"You want anything to eat or drink?" he asked me. He was too polite.

"No thanks." I was hungry and thirsty, but I'd already imposed enough, so I plopped down on their couch and tried to be as quiet and invisible as humanly possible. "Thanks for letting me stay," I added, forcing myself to smile to let him know appreciated his kind gesture, even if I felt lousy.

"No problem." He took a seat in the chair next to the couch and went back to reading that book. I tried not to stare at him as he read it, but it was hard not to. The way he poured himself into that book was incredible. He cared about that book as much as Steve cared about the cars he fixed, and that was a rare thing in our neighborhood, especially for a guy. Liking books wasn't high on the list of "tuff" things for Greasers to do.

"Hey, Julia, I heard this rumor about Angela. Just wonderin' if you knew anything about it."

Pony's voice caught me offguard. One, I didn't expect him to talk to me. Two, if it was about what I thought it was...

"That is if you don't mind me asking," he added.

"No, it's fine."

He dog-eared the page he was on in the book and set it down next to him with a sigh. "Some chick told me she broke up with Bryon, that true?"

"For now, I guess." I tried to stop the nervous giggle creeping up my throat. It was such a relief he didn't ask about her being pregnant. "I mean, you never _really_ know with her." She said they were gonna "just be friends" or something like that—but I knew Angela better than Angela knew Angela, and they could be back together in a heartbeat. She cycled and recycled boyfriends left and right, and Bryon made a grave mistake thinking she'd be loyal to him. Not that I knew for sure what he thought, but at the moment, it seemed like he wanted to keep the relationship going, and she could care less what they did.

He couldn't stand the thought of her being with someone else. Whenever she flirted with another boy, he'd get jealous, and rightfully so, but Bryon didn't suffer in silence no more than she did. They'd just fight and fight and fight, which, of course, Angela adored. Apparently he was more passionate than the other boys. And a damn good kisser when he was mad. All things she'd told me about him, whatever sense they made.

"They think it's 'cause she fancies me," Pony went on. "Swore it was just a rumor, but if she and Bryon are really broken up now, maybe she ... I dunno. It's probably just a rumor."

Christ, he looked uncomfortable. "Honest, I don't think you got anything to worry about now," I tried to assure him, and it was the truth. She often talked about the boys she was going to pursue in great detail. I'd hear about them for weeks before she ever made her move, and Pony's name hadn't been brought up in a while. "Who told you this anyway?" I asked him.

"Can't remember her same. Some eighth grader or ninth grader. Friend of hers, I think..."

"If her name's Candy, it's bullshit."

His eyes widened. "That sounds familiar. Must've been her."

"Like I said, bullshit," I repeated to his discomfort. "Don't believe a word she says. She's fucking crazy."

He cringed again. I couldn't decide if it was the information we were discussing, my cussing, or both, but he looked like he wanted to run and hide under something.

"Trust me, she's probably just saying that 'cause she wants to be with Bryon," I went on. "And she knows Angela liked you. Probably trying to set you two up, so she can steal Bryon. She's like it. Just a huge drama queen."

"I hope you're right, 'cause it ain't happenin'," Pony stated firmly. "I mean, I'd rather be single the rest of my life than date..."

The door opened, making me jump. It was Darry, which concerned Pony far more than me.

Darry looked at Pony and then at his brother.

"She needs a place to stay for a little bit," Pony told him. "Just until Steve gets here. It's not like I invited her over or nothin'."

Darry reached for the book, and Pony quickly tried to hide it, but he hadn't moved fast enough.

Darry already had it between his fingers and shifted his eyes down to the cover.

Pony crossed his arms and huffed, "You never said I couldn't read when I was grounded."

Darry glanced up from the book, his eyes shooting daggers at Pony. "Yeah, but I did say you couldn't go anywhere, and would you look at this?" He flipped the book around and pointed to the binding. "Does this say it's from the Will Rogers high school library?"

Pony uncrossed his arms and went white in the face. "I went to the public library earlier this week to do some research for a paper I'mma write... _For English_, and I decided to pick up a few books for fun while I was at it..." He flashed Darry a tiny smile. "You know, I gotta have somethin' to do while I'm grounded."

Darry tapped him over the head with the book. "If it was really for that, why didn't you just ask me if you could go? Where are these other books anyway? I wanna see 'em."

I held my breath for Pony. He'd really walked himself into a corner with this, and it was painful to watch, but not as painful as a fight at Angela's house. At least this seemed normal.

"Jesus, Darry, you didn't even ground Soda when he wrecked the truck, and you wanna get on me for this?".

"You don't have any other books, do you?" Darry snapped right back. "Well, you're lucky I'm in a good mood tonight I could ground you longer if I wanted, but I won't. There's worse things you coulda done than go to a library, for Christ's sakes, but if I find any movie ticket stumps or receipts from places you ain't supposed to go, there's gonna be hell to pay."

"Darry," Pony started again.

"You really wanna argue with me when I let you off the hook?"

"Just, this is … embarrassing," he mumbled and glanced at me briefly.

"We can go talk about this more somewhere else if that's what you're getting at," Darry offered, bobbing his head towards the kitchen.

"Never mind," Pony exhaled loudly.

I swore Darry might've yelled at him for that, but he just walked away. He'd said all he needed to apparently.

Pony held the book between his hands, but he wouldn't open it or read it. He just stared at the binding.

"Hey, if it makes you feel any better, when Steve gets here, he'll probably yell at me more than Darry just yelled at you," I said in hopes of cheering him up.

Pony looked confused by my words. "Why? He hates your Dad. You just tell him you were scared to go home and he'll probably understand."

I bit my tongue. He couldn't have been more wrong about that, but I didn't feel like telling him everything that led up to me sneaking out tonight. He'd have to know the whole story to understand why Steve'd be pissed—to understand that my dad wasn't the monster; to understand that _I_'d screwed up.

"Must suck though when he does yell at ya," Pony mused. "I mean, he says real mean stuff to me sometimes, and I'm not even related to him."

He had no idea. Well, actually, he probably did. Steve sure whined about him enough, and Pony even went on to tell me about a few times my brother had said something clever to him.

He probably would've told me more stories if Darry hadn't reemerged.

I grew nervous when he walked up to me instead of Pony. "Steve know you're here?"

"Not exactly."

He gave me a suspicious look. "You think I maybe oughta call the DX and let him know?"

I hesitated. At least he hadn't suggested _I_ call him, but I wasn't sure this was any better.

"Just a thought. I dunno if he was coming back here or to your place," Darry went on. "Don't want him to worry if goes home, and you ain't there. Just sayin' it might be a good idea to call."

Shit, I hadn't even thought of that as a possibility. "Yeah, maybe you oughta," I agreed, wide-eyed.

He nodded and headed back into the kitchen to use the phone.

I tensed up and listened carefully from where I sat in hopes I could hear the conversation, but I could barely make out Darry's end of it.

"Hey, like I said, he probably won't be that mad," Pony said.

It was sweet of him to say, but there was no way it wouldn't be bad.

The look on Darry's face when he returned was very telling. "You're lucky I thought of that," he said. "Steve says he was just about to head home."

"Is he mad?" _  
_

Darry snorted. "Yeah, you could say that, and I dunno if I blame him from what he said."

I nodded and kept quiet. I didn't even want to know what Steve had told him.

Pony and Darry were quiet too. I could sense lingering tension over the mini fight they'd had seconds ago, and I guess neither of them felt like talking to each other. Steve said Pony liked to give Darry hell, but it looked like it went both ways to me. Hell, if anything, I was inclined to side with Pony.

It seemed like forever before they got here, and much to my surprise, Soda stepped through the front door alone without my brother.

"Where's Steve?" I asked him impatiently.

"Waiting for you in his car," he informed me. "Wants to talk to you alone."

I got up slowly and drug my feet to the door.

"Good luck," Pony called after me. I wanted to throw an "I told you so at him", but I didn't.

"Hey, don't worry too much, I told him to be nice," Soda said with a wink. Whether or not he had, I didn't know, but it was hardly comforting.

I reached for the doorknob and paused for a second. "Thanks for letting me stay," I said in a small voice.

Pony and Soda both assured me it wasn't a problem.

Darry said nothing. He seemed fully aware I was at fault for this, and it weirded me out. It made me wonder how much Steve had ever mentioned about me to him. I hadn't thought about it before, but they were kind of in similar positions. Of course my father wasn't dead, but through various circumstances Steve had been forced to look after me. Just this Christmas break for example. Dad knowingly left Steve in charge for weeks.

I took a deep breath and opened the door before I could hesitate anymore. As I shut it, I heard Soda tell Darry they were able to fix up his truck and that he was sorry Darry had to walk to and from work today. I wanted to press my ear against the door to hear the rest of the conversation, but Steve was waiting for me just like Soda had said.

I could barely make out his facial features in the dark, but I could imagine them well enough.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I approached the passenger side of his car slowly and paused in front of it. My knees locked up, and my feet felt like they were glued to the pavement.

Steve reached over and popped the door open. "Quit standin' around, and get in."

"Sorry," I managed and crawled into the seat.

"Save your apologies."

"Sorry."

"What'd I just say?"

I folded my hands in my lap and stared at them. He already close to yelling. Any second now my eardrums would ache.

"You're not sorry," he told me, so certain of it. "So don't even bother with that bullshit. All you're doin' is pissing me off more."

"Sorry," I muttered only to catch myself a moment later. "I mean, you were right about Curly. What you said."

Silence.

"Steve—"

"I don't even know what to say to you."

"I _had_ to, Steve. I already tried to explain that to you, but—"

"But what? I told you it was a stupid idea? If Charlie figures out you've missing, he's gonna be worried sick."

"So?" I glanced at him and heaved an annoyed sigh. "Since when do you give a damn what he thinks?"

"Shut up." His eyes shot at mine, and I backed down quickly.

"He still thinks you're sick, you know," Steve said. "He and Carol both, and hell, I was gonna go home 'til Darry called me, 'cause even though you told me you was fakin', I was startin' to think you actually were getting sick. Think that wouldn't have given me a heart attack? To come home and not see you there?"

I nodded, head still down. "You're right, I guess."

"You guess so? That all you can say to me?"

"Please don't tell Dad," I begged.

"Well, I got news for you, I already did."

"But you just said he'd be worried if he found out," I said, all too bitter I'd been betrayed.

"I lied," Steve went on. "Wanted to see if any of that got to ya, and clearly you don't seem to care if you worried anyone in the least bit. Not him. Not me. Called him right after I hung up with Darry. Made up some lie, can't even remember what, but he fell for it. Blamed me, you know. Says I probably helped you sneak out, and you wanna know why? 'Cause you stuffed a bunch of goddamned pillows under the covers. Did the same thing when I was your age, and he still remembers it. I told you about that. Did I not tell you that was a stupid idea?"

I caught the urge to roll my eyes before it happened. He had, but it was only a backup plan. The real plan was no one find out ever, but I didn't think far enough ahead to realize I'd be too scared to sneak myself back in. Sneaking myself out was the easy part. _This_ was hard. I felt so bad arguing with him now. It was instinct. He kept assuming he knew what I thought when he didn't.

"You even listening to me?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I guess you'll be thrilled to hear the real kicker then," he said. "He thinks this is all 'cause I hate Carol. 'Cause I don't wanna let you two bond or somethin'. That's why _I _snuck you out."

"But that doesn't make any sense," I said, trying to find any reason in it. I couldn't.

"Does he ever make sense when he's drunk and rambling?"

I didn't know what to say to that. Once. One time he made sense, and that was just the other night when he told me about what happened with Jack's mom, and now I was scared. Maybe his drunken ramblings made more sense than his sober thoughts. There was more truth to them; however screwed up that truth might be.

Steve kneaded his temples between his fingers, like he was putting real effort into calming himself down. I wasn't sure if that was comforting or frightening. Comforting in that he was trying; frightening he was so upset he had to. "I get why you did it, so don't think it's that..."

"What?"

"I get why you did it," he said. "You don't want your best friend thinkin' you outed her deepest secrets."

It was such a reprieve and yet, all I could do was pick out his fault. "I already told you that. Did Soda tell you to say this?"

"No," he said so fast.

"I should thank Soda, huh?"

"You should shut up is what you should do, an' don't get your hopes up. None of this means I ain't still mad at ya. I'm pretty … I'm pretty goddamned pissed, alright? I mean, I'm pissed. I'm just … I'm just pissed!"

"I know," I said quietly.

"You don't." He shook his head. "You realize how many times I've done this now? How many times I make up something to keep you out of trouble with 'im? At my own expense, might I add? If you got it, you'd realize that, and you don't."

"I do," I said, but what he heard was _yell at me more_.

"And you just take it for granted, don't you?"

"I don't."

"You do," he persisted. "You ain't sorry, and you take it for granted, 'cause you expect it. You take risks like this 'cause you know I'll bail you out."

I wanted to throw up. "How can you accuse me of that? You don't live in my brain. You don't know what I think! And I haven't been that bad."

"Well, I dunno what fantasy world you're living in." He shook his head at me disapprovingly, and the gesture hurt worse than his yelling. "Maybe you oughta just admit it. You want me to run through the list for ya? Glory, you'd think you suffer short term memory loss the way you been denyin' it."

"I am sorry though," I said, not choosing my words carefully enough.

Before I could even take my next breath, he'd grabbed me by my shoulders. "Sorry don't mean shit, 'cause it's a worthless word. If you really feel bad, if you really mean it, you'd stop doing it, but no, you just throw '_I'm sorry, I'm sorry'_ at me like he does. Like it'll just make it better. You're just like him that way."

_Like who?_ I almost asked, but I knew the answer—Dad. I wasn't, though. I only apologized because I was scared, not because I wanted to get out of something.

He got out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

I chased after him. "Where're you goin'?"

"We ain't goin' home, and we ain't sleepin' in my car," he said.

Before I knew it were were standing in the entryway, and things got awkward fast. If it were possible, there was more tension between the Curtis's than there was me and Steve. It halted my thoughts momentarily. I watched them go at it instead of stewing over what Steve had said to me.

"Pony, knock it off," Soda snapped, which seemed uncharacteristic of him, so my eyes locked on him immediately. "You weren't there, how would you know?"

Pony's face paled. I hadn't heard the whole thing, but it was easy to see Soda's snap hurt him more than anything Darry had told him earlier. "I was too," he said.

"Not all of it," Soda went on, losing patience with each word he soaked. "You went and sulked in your room while we was talkin' outside, 'cause you were just as pissed at me."

"So he_ did_ ground you?"

Soda sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "No, Pony," he said calmly. "He didn't."

Pony looked at Pony accusingly. "How's that fair?"

"Ponyboy," Darry warned under his breath.

"He punched me, damn it." Soda was almost shaking he'd grown so frustrated. "That good enough for ya? And I punched him back."

"You _what_?" Pony lashed at Darry, paying no attention to the second part.

"Chill out, will ya?" Steve stepped in and pulled Pony away from Darry. "It ain't a big deal. He punched Soda, Soda punched him back. They're even now, and obviously you're the one who can't get over it."

"He's right, Pony," Soda agreed, regaining his calm. "I'm over it now, and you should be too."

Pony looked embarrassed. As embarrassed as he was angry, and he took off for his room.

I heard the door slam, and Steve rolled his eyes.

Soda and Darry both glared at him.

"What?" He raised his hands in the air innocently. "I tried to help."

Darry walked towards Pony's room. "I'mma go talk to him."

"I dunno about that," Soda told him. "Maybe I should later."

"Well, you certainly didn't help anything," Darry replied. "You _really_ need to tell him that?"

"I was frustrated," Soda said. "I can't be Mr. Calm all the damn time, so just 'cause I snapped and you didn't don't make you can attack me. And so what you didn't ground me. I'm seven-friggin'-teen. Ain't it obvious it wouldn't even be appropriate?"

"Don't be so sure about that, little buddy. I just might if you don't watch your damn attitude," Darry told him, still headed towards Pony's door.

"Well, this is great, you got your little sis here, and we're acting like this," Soda exclaimed when Darry was out of sight. "Holy shit."

A split second later, he apologized for the cussing, but Steve and I weren't bothered by it.

"It's her own fault she's here," Steve replied, staring at me.

I returned the dirty look. It was funny he was pissed at Pony for not getting over something when he was doing the exact thing to me.

"No, I don't mean that like she shouldn't be here," Soda insisted, flashing me as friendly of a smile as he could manage in his irritation. "Just be nice if we weren't at each other's throats right now. Jesus, Darry didn't even punch me that hard, and I was in the wrong anyway. Lucky we were able to get 'er all patched up tonight. I might've never lived it down, but just when I think we're over it and I've fixed everything, Pony thinks Darry's being unfair, and there we go again..."

"Don't worry about it," I piped up. "My brother fights with me all the time."

"Really? I find that hard to imagine."

"All the time," I said, much to Steve's annoyance.

"Pony ain't used to it the way me and Darry are, I guess," Soda though aloud, pressing both hands to his forehead. "Mom never liked it when we was rough around him. Couldn't even pretend fight or she'd have a cow, but we beat on each other all the time. It was fun. Least until I figured Darry went easy on me and let me win sometimes, 'cause he didn't wanna hurt my feelings."

That at least got a chuckle out of Steve. "Shit, I remember that You wanted to take him on for real and everything. Got mad at me when I told you it wasn't a good idea."

"I could now, though," Soda said, confident he could.

I doubted it. Darry was huge and scary looking. He could probably take on all the guys Angela's brothers hung out with just by himself.

Steve said exactly what I was thinking, and they bickered about it a little, argued about who, between the two of them, would have a better shot at winning against Darry. "Please, he could probably beat you both up at the same time."

Steve turned to me, wiping the smile straight off his face. "You don't even know him that well."

"Yeah, Julia," Soda said and went on to brag about all the big, tough guys they'd taken on together.

"Together? That don't mean nothin'. Two on one ain't a fair fight."

Soda laughed. "Nah, don't mean together. Shoot, if we took someone on together, he'd wind up in the ER. Right, Steve?"

Steve appeared too irritated to comment. He couldn't let our fight go, and the worst part was it didn't matter what I said. Everything provoked it. He was just hellbent on being angry. "What? I can't talk at all?"

"Not if you ain't got nothin' nice to say."

That made no sense. I hadn't said anything mean. I was just joking around with Soda, and it wasn't my fault he was so pissed he couldn't handle the sound of my voice period. "I guess you better not talk anymore than either. You're never nice."

"Julia, I swear—"

"Swear what?"

Soda stepped between us. "Hey, is this really worth this?"

"He thinks I'm like our father, so yeah, I'd say it is," I spewed out.

"What?" Soda asked, confused. "Why the hell would he think that?"

"'Cause he said it," I insisted, despite the fact Steve looked like he wanted to strangle me. "He said I'm just like him and I don't mean it when I apologize."

"Well, excuse me for pointing it out, but it really seems like it lately the way you been acting. If you're so bothered by it, maybe you oughta think about the shit you do before you do it. You ever pause and think maybe that's the point I'm trying to make in all this?"

"You're acting just like him too," I yelled. "Yelling at me without even giving me a chance to explain myself."

"Okay, okay," Soda's voice broke through ours. "Obviously you're both pissed at him. Why're you takin' it out on each other?"

"Easy for her to say when she ain't the one who pays for it," Steve told him. "I take the blame every single time."

I backed myself up to the nearest wall to steady myself. I was so queasy.

Soda started whispered stuff at Steve, but I couldn't make it out. I already regretted what I said. Soda probably didn't need a thing about Steve's accusation, but it felt so good to get it out there. It was a means to call Steve on his bullshit without confronting him myself, but now I felt as though I'd blackmailed him. Despite what Steve thought, I hadn't forgotten what I'd done. I hadn't forgotten about sneaking out.

I slid my back down the wall until I was seated, pulled my knees up to my chest, and buried my face in them, fuming I couldn't keep it together anymore. I was just scared. Scared of going home. Scared of how Steve was acting.

"What the hell's goin' on _now_?"

The new voice in the room was Darry's.

I looked up briefly. Soda started explaining things to him, and Steve walked towards me slowly.

"You okay?" Steve asked, crouching down in front of me. He sounded frustrated but not angry. Thank God not angry. I couldn't be sure if I was my tears or that Soda had finally calmed him down, but I was glad for it. Either way, I breathed easier.

"Yeah, about the yelling, Darry." Steve turned to him briefly. "We'll be leaving shortly."

Darry gave an understanding nod, but a second later, he headed off down the hallway with a look on his face that said this bullshit all better be over by morning.

"You don't really have to go," Soda told us. "He's probably just embarrassed we were fighting when you walked in."

"I think we oughta," Steve said, tone so heavy and tired. He told Soda he'd see him tomorrow, helped me up, and pulled me towards the door with him.

He had a gentle hold on my arm and walked slow enough he wasn't dragging me.

When we got in his car, he paused before starting it. "Listen, what I said about you and Charlie—I mean, Dad—I don't think that at all. And I lied to you. I mean, I lied twice." He ran a hand through his hair. "I should've just told you right away, but I dunno... I wanted you to think about it first or somethin'. I didn't call him. He flipped out when he realized you were missing and went looking for you. Found me at the DX with Soda. He was plastered and worried as heck. Told I'm I'd take care of it, and he oughta go home, 'cause he ain't in no condition to be wandering around looking for you."

"Oh..."

"He was too upset to listen," he said. "Mumbled a bunch of shit I could hardly make out and took off."

"But didn't Darry call you?" I asked him. I remembered that. I saw it happen.

"Yeah, and thank Christ, he did. I was_ just_ about to leave the DX too. He don't even know the whole story, but at least he smart enough to figure out it was strange you was hangin' around their place without me."

My lips felt numb and I struggled to speak. "Why didn't you just take me home right away? What if he's there now? Worried? About both of us?"

"I called Carol," Steve managed, voice tight. "Once Darry told me you were there, I didn't worry so much about finding you anymore, and Soda well, he didn't think it was a good idea for me to be around you with how mad I was, but I wanted her to know Charlie was still roaming around looking for ya when you were found and alright. She called me back, saying he'd come home, not too long after."

"So he's okay? He's there now and okay?"

"I dunno about okay. He's probably pretty shook up still."

Somehow that didn't feel like the whole truth. It still felt like half truths. There was something more. "Steve, what happened?" I pressed.

"I already told you. That's all."

No, it wasn't. There had to be more. "Steve..."

"Alright, fine, you're right," he admitted faster than I expected. "Carol said the neighbors came over threatening to call the cops on us 'cause of the noise, and she wasn't sure if they would or not. He was yelling in the background, so it wouldn't surprise me."

By now I could hardly breathe. "Oh my god, I just wanted to talk to Angela."

"Well, was it worth it?" he asked.

No, and it added so much insult to the injury to hear him say it aloud. My brain was gonna implode. He wanted to make a point, and I understood that, but I was exhausted. Guilty and angry at the same time. Guilty for many reasons, but angry all this had to come out of one selfish wish of mine. Just one little thing and well-intentioned wish. Was it wrong to care about my best friend? Apparently yes.

"Hey, it's alright." Steve hooked an arm around me. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not _alright _you just took off like that, but I guess there was a reason he thought I was to blame if I really think about it. I've done similar, you know? God, if I told you about all the times, you'd think I used to be an idiot, and let's not even get started on him. What's he done lately? And while we're at it, not just lately. I'd say you could call it even. It wouldn't even be _even_ by a long shot. He's let you done more than you ever did him.

"I dunno."

"Just don't do it again, and you'll be fine."

"I dunno."

He was trying to make me feel better, but I couldn't feel better yet. I couldn't even apologize despite the strongest apologetic urge I'd felt all night because I couldn't stop thinking about all the things he said. What if he still thought I wasn't sorry?


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

The second we walked through the door I was yanked forward. I flinched, anticipating a slap or two, or maybe even a series of blows. Anything but what happened. Dad had pulled me into a painfully tight embrace and mumbled something about how worried he'd been. I shivered from head to toe, but he didn't notice. He squeezed harder and repeated the incoherent utterances. He sounded relieved, angry, and terrified at the same time, and though the hug was nice, the first thought that ran through my head was how much he reeked. It was an awful combination of booze, smoke, and sweat.

"Jesus, Charlie." Steve pried me out of Dad's arms. "You tryin' to suffocate her?"

Dad ignored Steve and rested a hand on my shoulder. "You okay, honey?"

I nodded.

"I told you I'd find her," Steve told him, almost smugly.

Dad moved to hug me again, but Steve pulled me back and wrapped his arms over me. "Leave her be, Charlie."

"Where was she?" It wasn't a demand, just an honest question.

"Maybe she oughta explain that herself," she told him.

I hesitated. I couldn't keep the lies straight. Not just mine, whatever ones Steve had told him as well.

A few beats of silence passed, and then Steve pinched my arm. "Go on," he whispered. "Tell him." For trying to be subtle, it wasn't subtle at all because he was far from gentle about it. It hurt.

"I think I'm just gonna go to bed," I said quietly.

I crept forward, but Steve didn't let me out of his grip.

I heard Carol clear her throat. "You're not going anywhere without givin' us an explanation first," she said. "You told us you was sick earlier. Something ain't adding up."

I looked at her. I hadn't noticed her yet, but she was seated on the couch with her arms folded over her chest. Dad zigzagged over to her and plopped down beside her. "Your mo— _stepmother's_ right."

"You realize how dangerous that is for a girl to wander around by herself?" Carol continued. "Especially at night? Tulsa's a big city, and this neighborhood—"

"I know," I snapped, despite wanting to hold my tongue. It wasn't her as much as Dad. If she hadn't brought this up, he probably wouldn't have said a damn thing.

"Julia, there is no reason to talk back to us like this," Carol warned.

Us? What did she mean us? It was just her. Dad was always so eager to pass off responsibility to someone else. I guess, even for something as simple as yelling at me. I'd have thought given the number of times he'd made my eardrums ache in the past he could've at least managed that. "I'm just tired," I ground through my teeth.

"You should've stayed in bed then."

"I know."

"You're grounded for two weeks."

"What?"

"That's right," she said. "And you can go straight to your room and think about this too. Think about how dangerous it was and how many awful things could've happened to you, 'cause you don't seem to understand that."

Her words sent me straight into a frenzy.

I couldn't even pause to think. I broke away from Steve and charged at her. "What the hell makes you think you can ground me when you can't even make Shannon behave?"

For being so strict and collected, I'd tore her down to nothing in a single question. She shot to her feet, shielded her eyes with her hand, and hustled out of the room.

I stared in shock. I meant to upset her, but not like that. Something was weird and not normal.

I turned and glanced at my brother and father. Steve confirmed my suspicion with a glare, and Dad appeared lost.

Steve shook his head at me and turned to Dad. "You gonna do anything, Charlie? Anything at all?"

Dad located his pack in his pocket and sprinted for the front door. I rushed to the window and peeked out the curtains, afraid he was leaving, but he'd just collapsed himself down to the front steps and lit the cigarette between his lips.

I guess the answer to Steve's question was no. Unless smoking counted.

Steve grabbed my arm and drug me away from the window. "Did I not tell you about her ex?" he whispered harshly, fingers cutting deep into my arm. "Did it not occur to you she was sayin' what she was '_cause_ of that?"

My knees buckled, and I tried to catch my breath as everything clicked in my head. What I'd said was a low blow. If Shannon had been … of course Carol would … I couldn't think about it directly. It made me sick to my stomach.

"What's going on in here?"

Steve and I both jumped to see Shannon. It was as though she sensed she was being talked about.

Once she knew she had our attention, she mumbled something about yelling, and I felt responsible.

"You can go back to bed, everything's fine now," I tried to assure her in a kind tone, but she didn't move an inch.

Steve inched forward. I forced my way in front of him and walked the rest of the way to where she stood, about to topple over in her sleepiness. I took her hand in mine and guided her back into the room.

Steve followed behind us and leaned against the door frame.

"Maybe we can play with our Barbies tomorrow," she whispered to me as I helped her into her bed. "I found one of yours today."

She'd found the only one I'd owned then, and I was tempted to snap at her for snooping through my stuff. She could keep the doll for all I cared as long as she didn't mess with anything else, but it was late. "Yeah, maybe," I agreed, tossing her covers over her sloppily.

Steve watched me as I did. I glared at him in hopes he'd go away. It was eerie being watched.

He didn't. I sighed and moved to my own bed, nearly knocking my knee on the bedpost because the room was twice as small with two beds. Steve probably just wanted to talk to me, and I wasn't interested in talking to anybody anymore. Not because I wanted to be mopey—okay, maybe a little—but mostly because I was afraid of what might slip out if I opened my mouth again. I was on a roll tonight and not in a good way.

Shannon stayed in her bed for all of ten seconds, rolling off hers and crawling into mine without bothering to ask if she could. "I like having a sister." She curled herself up beside me and closed her eyes. "I wish Steve were a girl, so I could have two sisters."

I looked to Steve and smirked. He gagged, molded his hand into the shape of a gun, and pressed it to his temple.

I stuck my tongue out at him. Being a girl was shitty, but it wasn't that bad.

When I was Shannon's age, I wished Steve were a girl too, but if he were a girl, things would be much worse. So many new things to fight over. Clothes, shoes, makeup. Pretty much everything. It'd be like having an older, more mature Angela as my sister, and nobody needed that. Angela was already enough of a sister to me. We sure bickered like sisters sometimes, and now I had _this_ sister—the one half drooling on my leg because she was nearly asleep again. She was gross … and annoying … and _gross_, and ugh, I couldn't find it in me to move her. It was nice she liked me, real nice actually, and I could stand to treat her better.

"She finally out?" Steve approached me and sat on the edge of the bed.

Nope, she wasn't. She popped her eyes open and bounced up immediately. "No boys allowed!"

"Steve's a nice boy," I told her, holding her shoulders to keep her on the bed. "Well, most of the time at least."

She looked unconvinced, scrunching her nose and eyebrows into an angry scowl. "No, tell him to go away."

I tried to reason with her. For some reason I changed my mind and wanted him to stay now, but she would not budge at all. No boys. No Steve. _  
_

Steve tapped my shoulder and shook his head at me to quit trying. Apparently I was more annoyed than him. I exhaled a heavy breath and hugged him. He cringed, not expecting it. I held on tighter and asked quietly enough for only him to hear me if I could go to his room once she was asleep. He finally hugged me back, whispering that he wanted to talk to me anyway.

"What's the secret?" Shannon demanded. "Why're you telling secrets?"

Steve smiled and patted the top of her head. "Julia just told me your feet smell."

She batted his hand away and latched herself to my arm, her frown intensifying.

He wished us goodnight and left. As soon as he shut the door, she broke away from me and lifted her foot to her face. "My feet do _not _smell."

I clapped a hand over her mouth, afraid she'd wake someone up, and assured her she had nothing to worry about. Steve's smelled a hundred times worse. It was true anyway; whenever he or his friends took their shoes off, the stench flooded a room.

Satisfied with my answer, she rolled over and shut her eyes.

I pulled the covers up to her to shoulders and watched her doze off, wondering if Steve ever felt like this when we were kids. Shit, he was more patient than I realized.

xxxx

I lingered outside Dad's and Carol's shut door before I reached Steve's room. They were arguing something fierce. It was in hushed yells and murmurs, but I could still make out some of the words. Carol's at least. Hers were clearer and less slurred.

"I told you she wouldn't wanna hear it coming from me," Carol accused. "I shouldn't have to do this yet. You're her father, and she hardly knows me."

He said something along the lines of I don't listen to him anyway and that he'd probably make things worse somehow if he tried, and it sent my heart racing. If he wanted to give up on me that fast, how could he expect anything from me?

"Seems like Steve said something to her," Carol went on. "For Christ's sakes, why do you let that happen?"

"I've tried to stop it, but he makes it his business regardless of what I say," Dad yelled loud enough I heard it. "Might as well use it to my advantage, 'cause he ain't backing off anytime soon."

"You're his father," Carol said. "Talk to him."

"_I've. Tried_. We've fought so bad I even kicked him out a few times, and it don't make a bit of difference. He still oversteps everything. Especially where she's concerned."

She kept at him, berating him for lots of things—for nearly bringing the cops here tonight, for promising her he'd clean his act up, on and on and on. We'd all heard _those_ promises, and she shouldn't have fallen for it.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and bolted away. I couldn't listen to this anymore.

I was out of breath when I made it to Steve.

He must've sensed something because he looked concerned the second he saw me. He even asked me what happened, but I couldn't answer. All I could think about was Dad. Not even Carol, just how Dad seemed so certain I was a lost cause. Well, it probably wasn't like that, but it felt like it, and it made Steve's accusation hurt all over again. I _wasn't_ like him. I swear, I wasn't. "What'd you wanna talk to me about?" I snapped, looking to my feet because I didn't wanna be here anymore. "Just tell me what you wanna tell me, or yell at me, or whatever you wanna do, and then I'll go back to bed."

Steve sighed. "Maybe I don't feel like yelling at you. Maybe I ain't that mad at you anymore."

I looked up. "Well, that's new."

"Enjoy it while it lasts," he teased and held his arms out to me.

I hesitated and folded my arms awkwardly, no longer eager to leave, yet equally unsure I wanted to hug him.

"Okay, what happened?" he repeated impatiently, letting his hands fall into his lap.

"Nothing," I mumbled and moved for his door.

Steve caught my wrist and pulled me in front of him. "What happened?" he repeated a little louder. "Christ, you're acting strange."

"Just leave me alone then."

"No, I dunno what the hell this is about, but no. All you're gonna do then is go back to your goddamned room and cry yourself to sleep, and then you'll just be crabby and bitch about everything all day tomorrow—"

"Steve—"

"Don't tell me you wouldn't," he kept on. "I ain't stupid. I know you better than that, so how 'bout you just tell me what the hell's wrong now, so we both can sleep?"

He looked and sounded sincere, so I stepped closer and let him hug me. I shouldn't have doubted him. Dad would've let me leave, but Steve didn't give up that easily.

xxxx

_Saturday, _January_ 7th, 1967_

Despite being "grounded", I found a way to get to Angela's. I asked Dad at breakfast, and he said yes, so I guess that meant I could. Carol was job hunting, and Steve had gone to Soda's, so the only person who protested was Shannon. She reminded me I said we'd play Barbies, and I promised her I would when I got home. I would too. The only reason I was leaving now was because I'd told Curly I'd come over. Angela needed it.

Dad offered to play with Shannon in the meantime. He used to do that with me; when we first moved back with him, he tried to braid my hair once with no success. He also tried to bake cookies with me and left the eggshells in the batter. Needless to say, he wasn't good at girl things. Likewise, Shannon wasn't impressed with his efforts. She cried and refused to let him entertain her, much like she'd refused to let Steve in our room last night. I felt guilty, but not too bad. Dad was being extremely patient with her in spite of a hangover, so there was no reason to worry. He wasn't the world's best father, but I could say without a hint of doubt he was nothing like her stepfather.

He stopped me just before I reached the door. "Julia, hold on."

I turned, unsure what to expect, so I didn't anticipate anything.

"I just want you to know I didn't forget about last night," he told me. "I think we all did some stuff we ain't too proud of, so we'll call today a fresh start, but if you step one more more foot out of line, that's it. No more lucky breaks."

Didn't he say something along those lines just the other day? Or maybe that was Mr. Hanson. Though tempted, I didn't call him out on the hypocrisy. I just agreed to his "new" terms and left.

xxxx

"Hi, Julia. Bye, Julia." Curly stepped out the door the second I stepped in. "Be back in an hour. Have fun with Angela."

"Wait, what?" I whirled around and chased after him. "What the heck do you mean by that?"

"All praise Julia." He held his hands up and bowed, like the Egyptians bowed to their pharaohs. "I'm serious. Thank you. I owe you one. See you later."

Thank you very little, Curly, for throwing me into a shark tank.

I found her in her room, face down on the bed. "Hey, Angela, you wanna do something tonight?" I asked. It seemed like a good place to start. She was always up for that.

She flopped over but didn't bother sitting up. "No, I don't wanna fucking do something," she growled, shoving her fingers into her hair and pulling at the roots. "Shut the damn door!"

"Why? I think we're the only ones home?"

She got up and pushed her way past me. "Ma ain't worked a full shift in a week. She'll probably say she's sick and come home early, and Curly'll be back for sure. Fuck her. Fuck him. Fuck y— _them_."

She slammed the door. The sound rattled through my bones, and she hurled herself back onto the bed.

I bit my tongue, reminding myself she wasn't mad at me, just life in general. She had stopped herself from cursing me directly, an act of sincere kindness in her current state.

I approached her slowly and sat on the edge of the bed. "Sorry, Angela, I wish I knew what to say. This is just shitty."

"What's shitty is Curly figured it out," she mumbled into the pillow, but loud enough to still be heard. "For a dumbass, he might be more of a genius than Tim."

I wasn't sure what was more shocking—what she said, or the fact she was talking about it openly. Better yet, she didn't assume I had something to do with it. How the hell did Curly manage that? The relief was immense. He hadn't thrown me under the bus after all.

"I fucking hate him," she added, lifting her head out of the pillow. "He always figures everything out, and he's worse than Tim. Tim'd just yell at me. Big deal. Curly blackmails."

"How so?"

"Told me I had to tell him who the baby's dad was or else he'd tell our mom what he figured out."

"Shit, what's he gonna do to James?"

"I dunno, but he sure seemed excited about it and furious all the same," Angela lamented. "He was so mad, I couldn't even talk him out of it. I mean, don't get me wrong, he ain't _that_ big of a genius. Tim's in custody for knocking a guy unconscious with a busted liquor bottle. Among other things. And he's planning _this_ revenge? That goddamned son of a fucking … _cunt_."

I paled, not just at the message, but Angela's mouth amazed even me sometimes. I'd only heard that word a couple times. Once Steve said it about Aunt Rita, and I'd never seen Dad belt him so hard in my life.

"He said he'd be back in an hour," I said in hopes of changing the subject, only to realize a second later it wasn't changing the subject at all.

"I wish I hadn't told him," Angela admitted. "He probably wouldn't have told her anyway. He just said it to get it out of me. I know it."

"Probably," I agreed, remembering how he'd weaseled the information out of me.

"He better not. I mean, she'll notice anyway when I start to show." She gestured to her stomach, face reddening. "But I could still get my period. It's been this late _one _other time."

"You really should go to a doctor," I urged, even though I knew her answer would be the same.

"If they tell her …" Her hands shook as she spoke. "She'd probably make me go to one of those religious homes for girls who get pregnant. You know, where they keep you holed up and make you give it up for adoption, never to be seen again. That is if she didn't just boot me straight to the street... Got kicked out of the Catholic school, so why would this fancy home take me anyway? And she wouldn't want me here."

But her mother wouldn't be able to do those things when it came down to it, would she? I hoped not. I really hoped not.

The look on Angela's face told me she was as uncertain as me.

"Tim would know what to do," she said with conviction.

She was probably right, but there was no telling when he'd be back.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Two hours passed, and Curly didn't show.

Two damn hours, and Angela hadn't spoken a word unless the three times she yelled at me to keep the door locked counted. Everything else was one-sided. _You sure you don't wanna do anything?_ Nothing. _You like being back in regular school? _Nothing. _Gee, you're really quiet today_. Nothing. _Can I bum a cigarette?_ Nothing.

I was having a conversation with a wall, so I gave up and kept myself busy by piecing through her endless pile of magazines, most of which were probably lifted from various drugstores. There was no way she could afford subscriptions. God, I'd missed magazines. Rosie kept loads of them around, but I didn't think Carol was the type… She wasn't ugly by any means, but she wasn't runway model pretty either. She looked average, like a mom or something. Unlike Rosie, she was close to Dad's age. Maybe I'd see copies of _Good Housekeeping_, but who wanted to read that when your previous stepmom read better things? Like _Vogue _or _Cosmopolitan_? That was one thing about Rosie I could miss.

"So Bryon told Candy we're still dating," Angela's voice tore through the silence.

I about choked on my own spit. "You mean you're actually gonna talk to me?"

She glared at me like she was trying to burn holes in my skull, but I couldn't help it. Her negativity was rubbing off on me. For Christ's sakes, I'd been locked in this room with her for two excruciatingly long hours, and everything I said or did got us nowhere. "You think maybe he just don't wanna be with her?" I suggested.

"Or _maybe_ he ain't really over me." Angela folded her arms over her chest and scrunched her nose. "Wouldn't surprise me none."

"You over him?"

The skull-burning glare returned.

Her problem was she wanted all the boys while she waited on Mr. Right, but the laws of the universe didn't work like that. Guys wanted the girl who'd been with everyone, but not for keeps. I'd overheard one of Steve's friends say something like that a long time ago, and it seemed to apply to Angela's situation in all ways except Bryon kept coming back to her. He must've really liked her. That, or she had him fooled, and I'd put my money on the second.

"Jesus Christ, Julia, who's side are you on?"

"Yours," I told her, which was only half true. It wasn't about sides for me. I didn't want a side no more than I wanted her to be in this mess in the first place.

She huffed like she didn't believe me. "Well, thanks," she said and shot me the same look she'd give me as kids when she'd sneer, "You're _supposed_ to be my best friend." She was the master of shaming people into doing things her way, but today, I couldn't put up with the bullshit anymore—couldn't pretend to be cool about this when it scared the living piss out of me. Being her friend was like waiting for an avalanche. She was always going down— it was just a matter of how and when— and I could never stop it. Tim could. She seemed to think he was capable of miracles, and it was probably the only reason he still had power over her.

"Angela, I can't—"

I clamped my mouth shut, halted mid speech by a door slam. I panicked and turned to Angela. Her eyes were fixated on the door knob. "It ain't Curly," she said, and sure enough, her mother burst through the door a second later.

"Angela Grace Shepard, you been home sitting on your ass all day, and the house looks like a pig sty. Where's your damn brother? He ain't got a job neither. One of you coulda done something about this."

"Guess the lock don't work no more," Angela muttered. "Perfect."

Her mother narrowed her eyes and took three long strides to the bed. "Everything's broken around here, 'cause you an' your brothers could give two shits about your own home." She stabbed a finger at Angela and shook it. "Always slamming doors, punching holes in the wall. I wake up every damn day wondering what the hell's gonna go next."

"Probably the next boyfriend you drag over here," Angela said complacently. "One by one, they always go. Oh, Patricia, I wonder whose fault that is. Say, what number was Earl again? I always forget. Seven? A hundred? Wait, did George count?"

Patricia reached across the bed and yanked Angela to her feet by her hair. Thinking of Angela's mom by her first name was strange, but "Angela's mom" sounded worse. It was hard to picture her as a mother of three, much less a grandmother, when the way she'd grabbed at Angela's hair made her look no better than the girls Angela fought with at school.

"You never answered my question." Angela curls were still crunched tightly in her mother's fist, but she didn't shut up. "Was George one of our _daddie_s or was he just a casual fuck?"

"When Earl comes home, you're gonna pay severely for everything you've said to me," Patricia threatened, tugging her fist down.

Angela flinched, but kept her composure enough to yell, "He ain't comin' home. He'd have to be half-retarded to want to."

"You better believe he is." Patricia was unrelenting and emphatic in words. "This is just a temporary separation."

Angela was right. That was exactly what my father said about Rosie, and the "separation" morphed right into divorce.

"Well, excuse me for pointing it out, but it sure don't seem like it." Angela grabbed her mom's hand and tried to pry her hair out of the fingers with no success. "He's gone, Ma. Better move on and focus on finding the new one. We all know you will, so go right ahead and whore yourself out again. You make it look so easy."

Patricia glowed red, equally embarrassed as she was furious. "You better watch it, Angela Grace."

"You better watch it, _Patricia_ Grace," Angela mocked back.

"I mean it, young lady. Your mouth is filthier than your brothers."

"I mean it all the same, old lady. Maybe you should've set a better example for me."

Patricia turned to me with an apologetic smile and asked in a forced kind tone, "Will you excuse us for a moment, Julia?"

At least she wasn't going to bawl Angela out in front of me anymore, but that didn't make me any less nervous. I nodded slowly—what choice did I have?—and glanced at Angela to give her as much more support as I could. She rolled her eyes and hurled insult after insult at her mother but didn't fight the pull as she was drug away. I could only assume she feared for the safety of her hair, but apparently not that much, because each utterance I heard was more offensive than the last.

After callling her a whore, I wasn't sure anything could be worse, and yet, she found away.

When I could no longer make our their words, I crawled under the blankets and tried to block out the yells by thrusting my head between the pillows. It didn't work. I could still hear the screeches, and worse, every hit. The walls were thin, and the sound was unmistakably from a belt. I felt sick to my stomach over the irony. Angela was apparently old enough to have a baby, but young enough to be punished by her own mother? _Thirteen_. Thirteen going on fourteen, but who cared about specifics. No matter how you looked at it, it was fucked up.

Christ, I wanted to scream. I should've said something on her behalf; anything instead of just nodding like an idiot, but how could I defend when she'd called her mother a whore? True or not, was that ever justified?

A sudden silence pierced my ears, and I pulled my head out of the pillows. Footsteps approached, and then as if nothing had ever happened, Angela emerged with a blank expression. No tears in her eyes. She wasn't even swearing under her breath. I stared at her, wide-eyed and awkwardly aware of the humiliation beneath the cold face. "You okay?"

She flipped me the bird and flopped onto the bed face down.

I rested a hand against her shoulder. She groaned and lifted her head enough to bitch at me. "I'm fine, Jule. _Really_."

"You sure?"

Angela huffed and moaned, like she was having a conversation with an idiot.

"I'm just tryin' to be nice to you," I said quietly.

She remained tense from head to toe, but her eyes softened a little. "Well, I'm better actually, 'cause maybe she'll finally leave me alone now that she feels like she's done something 'stead of waiting on fucking Earl to take care of all her problems. God, every time I say anything to her, it's Earl this, Earl that like that's supposed to make me listen when we ain't seen him in how long? Guess she finally grew a pair."

"Still," I started, but I didn't know how to articulate what I was thinking. Angela wasn't a problem. She was problematic, sure, but she wasn't _the _problem. The problem was her mom didn't know how to be a mother.

Angela collapsed her head back down. "At least she can't swing that hard," Angela muttered, voice muffled by the pillow. She was less embarrassed than she was the time Earl laid into her when we'd left the kitchen in shambles months ago, but of course she wanted to appear tough instead of admitted she was mortified.

I scooted closer to her and draped an arm around her shoulder. The gesture was hardly a bandage to anything, but I felt helpless leaving her be. No wonder she wanted to keep her secret a secret at all costs. I didn't blame her, and I'd quit urging her to see the doctor. She couldn't risk the chance he'd tell her mother when the bitch insisted on conducting herself like this.

Man, I was lucky with Carol. I realized that now. Trying to ground me wasn't all that bad when last night could've been a lot worse.

xxxx

It was another two hours before Curly returned, and by that time, Angela's mom was gone. She didn't say where she was going or why she was leaving, but she had been the slightest bit kinder to Angela the rest of the afternoon. She cleaned up the house herself and told us we could make whatever we could find in the pantry for supper before she left. Angela was right. Now that she felt like she'd done something, she would leave her alone.

"So what happened to an hour?" I asked Curly. "You said an hour."

"Oh, well, an hour's more or less two or three," Curly dismissed it. "Where's Angela?"

"In her room. I think she's pissed at you." It was true. When we heard the door open, she expressed no interest in leaving her room. I told her Curly was here, and she told me I could tell him to go fuck himself.

"Well, what's new?" he sighed. "Ain't like Angel's known for being pleasant."

I shook my head at him. This time she had reason to be unpleasant. "You _had_ to blackmail her? What good is it beating him up anyway? You'll just wind up in jail." Just like Tim, and the fact Tim was already there should be some kind of a warning to him, but I'd judged him too soon. As it turned out, he had different plans.

"Nah, I ain't beatin' him up," Curly assured me. "If I do that, it'll out the information to everyone. 'Cause people'll wanna know I had good reason to beat him to a pulp, you know?"

I nodded, impressed by his train of thought. He might've been an idiot in more ways than one, but he understood people and how they worked. Tim had to be jealous of that.

"Gonna make him wonder if I know for a while," Curly went on proudly. "Play with his head 'cause I can, and then I'll make sure he catches hell somehow. Believe me, he'll pay."

That was awful and brilliant at the same time, and I'd have congratulated him on coming up with it if it weren't for Angela's scream.

We rushed upstairs to find her hoovering over her bed, staring at a blood stain from where she was seated. She pushed Curly out of the room immediately but let me stay.

She wasn't pregnant.

At least not anymore.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Friday, January 13__th__, 1967_

The next several days were a constant haze.

I couldn't concentrate. I couldn't eat. I couldn't sleep. Everything was chaos except it wasn't. Nothing horrible had happened since the weekend. If anything, good things happened. For once in his life, Dad went to work every day and Carol started working as a waitress at a nearby restaurant. I started working too—as Shannon's designated babysitter. Every day I went from my school to hers and walked her home. It took me forty-five minutes altogether, especially since she was extremely pokey, and when I'd gotten home Monday, I was ready to tell Dad and Carol I wouldn't do it a second day. I was outraged. Just because I was her sister didn't mean I should be required to babysit. I understood why, I guess. We couldn't afford daycare, and why pay for daycare in the first place when I was old enough to watch her? Still, it was a huge change. I was used to being the youngest, used to rolling my eyes whenever Steve complained _he_ had to watch _me_, but when Dad asked me how it went, I kept my thoughts to myself. I'd been walking on ice thing since the night I snuck out, but really, it wasn't that bad. Aside from being pokey, Shannon was well-behaved for me—she was just overjoyed to spend more time with me and did whatever I wanted her to because I had newfound magical powers. I could lie, and she'd believe it. I could say anything, and she wouldn't dare question it, because everything I said or did was cool.

Besides, Carol offered to pay me. Granted, not much; just a teeny tiny portion of her tip money at the end of each week. That didn't matter though. For the first time in my life, I had an allowance. I'd heard of the concept before. Kids in school often whined about not getting their allowances as a punishment, but most of them were rich kids. Angela'd once joked her only allowance was not getting hit when she remembered to do everything her mother had asked her, so needless to say I wouldn't be telling her or anyone else where I got the money. If Angela asked, I'd tell her I stole it, but she probably wouldn't ask. She had too many other things swirling through her head.

Even though she'd just dodged the biggest bullet of her entire life, there was always something worrisome about her, and that was exactly the reason why I couldn't enjoy this amazing week.

How could I when with her back of my mind?

She didn't go to school all week, which served as a constant reminder of what happened. That night was the one thing I _could_ focus on when everything else was a blur. Every minute of every day I thought about what happened. I could still see the blood on her sheets and the horrified look in her eyes. I'd never seen her cry so hard, and Curly looked equally terrified. If he weren't so tough, he'd have probably cried along with her out of sympathy.

Angela later told me we were overreacting. That was the one time I'd went to see her this week. Sunday night. Not even a day after the ordeal, and she blew it off like nothing had ever happened. Said it was _just_ her period and I was acting like a mother hen, but I didn't care if I was. I didn't believe her. Sure, I knew nothing about miscarriages, but that seemed like too much blood to be an average period.

"Hey, Julia?" Shannon's voice pierced my ears.

I stumbled forward on a sidewalk crack, and my heart jumped as I tried to catch my balance. "God damn it," I cussed under my breath, realizing I wasn't paying attention to where Shannon and I were walking. "Uh, I mean, don't repeat that word."

"Mommy hates that word, but don't worry, I won't tell on you. Hey, where're we goin'? Mommy would want us to go straight home. Are we going home, Julia? This doesn't look like the way. We didn't go here yesterday. Why aren't we going where we were yesterday?" Her face grew more perplexed with each question she asked. "Are we lost?"

No, we weren't lost, and it was just like her to ask two billion questions in one breath... We weren't lost. We were going to make a pit spot at Angela's and go home. I needed to see her again because what she'd told me Sunday night was bullshit. "We're just gonna stop at my friend Angela's for a second, okay?"

Her face lit up and she trotted alongside me with a skip in her step. "Can Angela be my friend too?"

"Yeah, sure." I grabbed her hand to keep her from running ahead of me. I should've said no. Angela didn't like kids. Thank God she wasn't having one, but what was I supposed to say? _No, Shannon, Angela's kind of a bitch?_

When we reached Angela's, I could hardly contain Shannon's excitement.

"Hi, Angela," she beamed the second Angela answered the door.

Angela looked at me as if to ask, "Who the hell is this kid?"

"Hey, sorry, Angel, gotta babysit my little sister everyday afterschool now," I explained. "I—"

"Do you have a boyfriend?" Shannon interrupted.

I pinched her arm, and Angela started laughing. "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I'm goin' on a date tonight with my boyfriend, Bryon. He's taking me out for my birthday. I'm turning fourteen."

So she was back with Bryon. Somehow I expected that, but it'd have been nice to find out another way instead of Shannon's incessant question asking.

Shannon scowled. "Boys are gross."

Angela smirked and planted her hands on her hips. "Believe me, you'll like them someday."

"Julia doesn't like boys."

I blushed and glared at her to shut up.

"Oh really?" Angela raised an eyebrow. "I think she does plenty. She's probably got tons of crushes she never tells me about."

Shannon looked anything but convinced and shook her head firmly. "Nuh uh."

Angela ignored her and turned to me. "Hey, you're welcome to come tonight if you want. It's not really a date. We're probably just hangin' out at the bowling alley."

I hesitated. "I'll um, I'll think about it."

"Come here at six," she insisted. "An' I'll let you borrow some of my clothes. We'll walk together. Heck, maybe I can even make Curly give us a ride."

I nodded and flipped my head to Shannon who was hanging on my arm. "I should, uh, probably get her home."

Angela rolled her eyes and started shutting the door. "See you when you get here."

She said it like it was a done deal, and it wasn't. I didn't _want _to go.

"I like her," Shannon declared once the door shut.

The feeling wasn't mutual. That was for damn sure, but at least Angela had been halfways decent to her.

I swallowed. Somehow it'd have been easier if she'd have been a total bitch. She was still pretending to be okay, and that recipe for a disaster later. All I knew was I shouldn't go out with her tonight. Whatever she was planning had to be bad; it always was whenever she didn't want to admit she was upset about something.

xxxx

"So, uh, exactly how long does it take to walk home from school?" Steve's voice boomed from the couch.

We'd just gotten home, and even though he'd hardly been here all week, he was taking it upon himself to lecture me for being a half hour or so past the usual time. "Well, maybe if you could still pick me up from school, it wouldn't take long."

That was an awful argument. Today it'd have worked out just fine, but he was picking up extra shifts at the DX whenever he could. It was like he was saving up for something big, and that scared me.

"We went to see her our friend Angela." Shannon smiled and nearly bounced up and down she was so eager to talk about it.

I glared at her in hopes she'd shut up. _Our friend Angela? _

Steve sat up and lifted an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

"Yep, and we're gonna go bowling with her at six o'clock," Shannon continued. "We're gonna have so much fun. It's gonna be the best night ever."

_Please God, make her shut up._ She'd heard a few things and got all the details wrong. I shook my head at her. "First of all, she didn't say you could come."

Her expression flipped from excited to crushed. "But she said it wasn't a date, so why can't I come?"

"Listen, I'm not even going," I tried to explain, but it didn't stop her lip from quivering. Why couldn't five year olds be logical?

"But," she started.

"Damn it, we're not going, and she ain't your friend. She's mine." I could feel the lingering tension in my vocal chords from my yell, and she felt it too.

Tears strolled down her cheeks and she ran for our room.

"Shannon," I called after her, but she didn't stop running.

I sighed and looked up at Steve. "Shit."

Steve crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "Anything she say true?"

"No, so don't you even dare think about yelling at me. I just wanted to see if she was okay, and you already know why, so don't ask."

He did know why. I was so upset last weekend I spilled everything the moment he asked me what was wrong. "I ain't lying about any of this either," I continued, growing more and more flustered. "I really don't wanna go. I just gotta think of a good excuse to tell her why I can't."

"I'll call her and tell her you can't," he offered with a shrug.

"No, she'll just think you're more of an asshole than she already does."

You honestly think I give a shit what Angela thinks of me? Hell, you already know what I think of her."

"Okay," I agreed reluctantly. At least it was a solution.

He nodded and grinned as he strolled over to the phone. Of course he was more excited about this than he needed to be. "What's their number?" he asked, picking up the receiver.

I closed my eyes for a second and rubbed my forehead. Did I really want him to do this? If I got bored later, I might regret it. It was Friday after all, but no, this was a good thing. If he did this, it would finalize my decision. I took a deep breath, spewed out the number, and fled to my room so I wouldn't have to listen to the conversation.

Shannon was face down on her bed with a mess of sheets curled beneath her.

"Hey." I approached her slowly and sat down beside her. "Sorry about what I said."

"I thought you said she could be my friend too," she mumbled into the bed.

"Trust me, you don't wanna be Angela's friend. It's a lot of work."

She shook her head against the pillow, which made her hair stick straight up. Her hair was as nightmarishly frizzy as mine

"But, Julia I don't have _any _friends here," she moaned. "I had lots of friends in Kansas, and then Mommy made me move."

"I'm your friend."

"Nuh uh, you're my sister."

"I can be your friend _and _your sister," I suggested.

She shook her head against the pillow again. "You're the best sister ever, but sisters can't be friends, 'cause they're sisters."

I wasn't sure if that made sense, but I didn't get a chance to argue with her.

"Hey, can I break the 'no boys allowed' rule for a second?" Steve asked from the doorway.

Shannon kicked her feet down against the bed. "Okay..."

Steve approached her and sat down on the opposite side of the bed. "Don't be mad at Julia. The only reason she's not going is 'cause she knows I wouldn't let her. Be mad at me if you want, but not her."

I lifted both eyebrows. Why was he throwing himself under the bus?

He leaned across the bed and whispered, "Just go with it. She doesn't like me anyway."

Shannon sat up and frowned at him. "You're not the boss of her. I heard Mom talking to Dad, and she said you shouldn't be bossing her around."

My eyes widened. She was observant; I had to give her that. "Well, it doesn't bother me that much anymore," I asserted, but I had to think about it for a second to know if it was truly a lie. He annoyed me plenty whenever he got bossy and probably always would, but it felt normal enough now I'd stopped trying to use the "you're not Dad" argument against him. I'd never say those words on purpose again.

Steve patted Shannon's shoulder and stood up. "Trust me, this Angela is quite the bi—_bad_ person."

"Not a bad person, just a bad influence," I corrected him.

He rolled his eyes. "Same difference."

"No, people've said you're a bad influence, but I don't think you're a bad person."

"Fine, bad influence," Steve sighed. "But anyway, Shannon, it's for Julia's own good and yours, so deal with it."

"You're not the boss of me either."

"I'm almost thirteen years older than you. Plenty old enough to boss you around."

Shannon shook her head.

"What'd your mom say when she told you Julia'd be watching you?" Steve went on. "She said you had to listen to her, right? Well, Julia has to listen to me, so that means you gotta listen to me too, which totally does make me the boss of you, and as the boss of you, I say you can't be mad at Julia for a stupid reason."

"I'm not mad at Julia," Shannon affirmed.

"Then my work here is done," Steve said and winked at me as he exited the room.

"I don't like him," Shannon told me as soon as he was out of sight.

"He's a good brother."

Shannon didn't get it, and how could she? Steve was next to a stranger to her.

Hell, I was next to a stranger to her.

xxxx

"Hey, Julia, can I talk to you for a second?" Carol asked me after supper.

My heart thumped hard against my chest. Not because she sounded mad, but the opposite. She was nice, and I was getting used to her, but I didn't feel like having any deep conversations with her yet. Maybe not ever.

"I wanna talk to you a little bit about what happened last weekend," she explained.

I nodded, cringing on the inside. My mind went straight to Angela, though I doubted she knew about that. After all, I'd only told Steve.

"I just wanted to apologize for trying to ground you," she said, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. "That was going a little too far, and I'm sorry."

I shrugged and looked to my feet. "That's okay."

"You can tell me if it's not, you know. I'll understand."

I shrugged again.

"You sure?" she asked, her tone so kind, it was almost insulting. "It just seems like you've been a little upset this week, and I was thinking maybe it had something to do with me. Maybe I'm making you uncomfortable."

"Trust me, it's _not _you." It came out so fast, I'd nearly snapped at her. I swallowed and regained my composure. "It's my friend. She's going through a rough time, and I'm worried about her."

"Oh, I see." She nodded, absorbing the information. "Well, if you wanna talk about it—"

"No."

She smiled a weak smile. "Well, you certainly don't have to, I was just putting it out there," she corrected herself. "But if you ever want to talk about anything, I can guarantee I understand girl issues a lot better than your father and brother."

That was probably true, but somehow it was still easier to talk to Steve.

"Thanks, I'm, um, gonna go talk to Steve."

I left for his room then, feeling guilty. That was probably insulting to her, but it was where I wanted to go.

When I reached his door, I could hear the record he was listening to. Rolling Stones. Typical. I let out a small groan and knocked.

He turned the music off and opened the door for me. "What?"

"You going anywhere tonight?" I asked him.

He pulled me into the room and shut the door. "No, why?"

"I dunno, it's Friday."

He shrugged. "Got the night off. My friends are all working, 'cept Two-Bit, but he's got plans I don't need to be a part of, and Evie's visiting her sister in Oklahoma City, so I got nowhere to be. "

"You an' Evie back together for sure for sure?"

He nodded.

The relief was immense. Carol was nice, but knowing I could talk to Evie again if I needed to was better. "Hey, can I ask you something really personal about her?" I asked, chewing on my lip.

"Depends on what it is," he said, looking at me suspiciously.

"How long did it to take her to get over, um, you know, finding out she really wasn't pregnant? I mean, that she was pregnant, but then not anymore. " Why was it so hard to say the word miscarriage? I only asked because of Angela. Well, I cared about Evie too, but … ugh, this was awkward.

It was even worse for him by the way he looked at me. He ran a hand through his hair, grabbed my arm and drug me over to his bed where he sat me down beside him. That should've been my first clue this was about to turn into a lecture. "Look, it's not something you can just get over like that."

I bunched my hands into fists and nodded. I knew it was a stupid question, but I wanted to have some idea, because the way Angela was dealing with this didn't seem normal at all.

"Still thinking about Angela, huh?"

"Always," I admitted. "What if she really needed me tonight? Maybe I should've gone. I mean, even if she did something bad, that doesn't mean I'd have to do the same." In short, I was uncertain and miserable about it.

"No, don't second guess yourself on this one. You made the right choice."

I folded my arms uneasily. "_You _kind of made it for me."

"Yeah, but it _was _for the best," he stressed. "I've been saying it forever, but you really need to find yourself some new friends."

I frowned. Maybe Shannon was right. Maybe he was too bossy.

"She's hanging out with Bryon and Mark and their friends lately, ain't she?"

My frown deepened. "How would you know?"

"Pony's been hanging around them lately too lately, and you best stay away from them. Hang out with people in your own grade for a change."

"Angela is in my grade," I said. "She was just held back."

"Oh, well, that's real assuring. She'll probably drop out. You wanna drop out too?"

I hadn't given it much thought, but now that he brought it up, maybe I did. I was really beginning to hate school, so why not?

"You're not dropping out." He raised his voice up a notch. "Jesus, don't even think about telling me you'd considered it. I'm not dropping out and neither are you. It's one thing if you got a good reason to, but you wouldn't."

"Okay, then, I guess I'm not," I said crossly.

"I'm serious. You're staying in school, and you're staying the hell away from Bryon and Mark. Especially Mark."

I kept my head down, refusing to look at Steve. He probably was glaring at me. I could just feel it. "Mark's a nice guy."

He poked my arm to snag my attention. "Mark's plenty nice, but my little sister sure as hell ain't hanging out with him."

I sighed and looked up. He indeed was glaring.

"Ponyboy probably shouldn't be hanging out with them either, but definitely not you."

"Okay, okay," I agreed, just to shut him up, even though I knew he had a point. A really strong one too, especially when I remembered how, not that long ago, I'd seen Mark hand Angela that bag of grass.

One thing was for sure; I'd never mention that to Steve.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

As I stared at the ceiling desperately trying to fall asleep, I thought of Angela—where she was, what she was doing, how much havoc she was wreaking on the universe—but mostly I wondered whether or not I could prevent anything if I was there. On and on I played these head games with myself, and for what? Peace of mind? What peace of mind? Knowing that whatever she was doing I couldn't stop it anyway?

This was _not_ how I imagined the day I finally told her no. I was supposed to be as courageous all those famous dead people Mrs. Fox rambled about in History, not cowardly enough to let Steve do my dirty work.

Was thinking of me too? What did she think? Was she furious I didn't come? Or pissed at Steve for—

Wait, what exactly did Steve tell her? It occurred to me I never asked. I should've for God sakes. It couldn't have been pleasant. Lord knows he looked forward to it—_never_ a good sign with him—but what did I care? She was used to people telling her off, expected it, _wanted_ it. Besides, Steve telling her I couldn't go worked best for all involved. He got to tell her off, I didn't have to go, and she could blame Steve instead of me.

But, damn it, what _was_ she doing? Was it really a casual date? Was she risking pregnancy again right this very second? God, way to think of every gross detail, Julia. No one wanted to think about their friends like—

Ugh, I was only worried she'd wind up in a similar situation again, and I couldn't take this anymore. One thought running straight into the next, and every time I closed my eyes, I grew more restless. My legs itched like my muscles were erupting out of my skin, and the more I tossed and turned, the more the bed started to creak. It was a high-pitched whine that yanked me out of my head long enough to realize I might wake Shannon if I kept on like this. If the meltdown was anything like this afternoon, getting her back to sleep would be a nightmare, so I leapt out of the bed and crept for the door. I planned to hog the couch and turn the TV on the lowest volume for the rest of the night. If I didn't sleep so be it, but at least I'd be doing something. Except I never made it to the living room. Instead I found myself outside Steve's room, staring at the shut door.

It was a pathetic sight. Dozens of nicks and cracks had scratched the surface, and what was left of paint had peeled. The walls of the hallway looked no different, not to mention everything else in the house was equally in shambles, so it was odd it should stand out to me _now_ of all times when I saw the damage every day. I pressed a hand near the door knob, and the entire thing rattled in its frame. It'd been abused one too many times; slammed by either my brother or father on a near daily basis, it barely hung on its hinges now. I retracted my hand, and the quick motion rattled it worse.

I heard footsteps and muffled swearing coming from inside the room and backed away. Now was the time to run, but I hadn't moved soon enough, or maybe I'd moved too soon and made more noise. Either way, the door opened, and there emerged a half asleep Steve, his hair a slimy, chaotic mess. I should be thinking about lots things, like escape, and here it dawned on me he spent more time on his hair than me. It brightened my mood, if only for a second. That was one more weapon I could add to my arsenal of ways to tease him. His hair was almost as sacred as his car, always slicked back in carefully up kept curls, and I decided it was bullshit he should bug me for wearing makeup when he obviously spent as much time primping himself.

He snatched the fabric of my nightgown's sleeve and tugged me inside. "The heck're you doin'?"

He flicked the light on and moved to shut the door, deliberating holding back from slamming it. I could see it the way his muscles twitched. "You gonna talk or what?"

"I didn't mean to wake you up. Your door is just really rattely, and I bumped it on accident," I said. "I was just gonna go to the living room, 'cause I can't sleep."

"So just 'cause you can't and I can means you got a God given right to wake me up?" He threw his hands up and let them crash down to his sides. "That sounds like bullshit anyway, 'cause the living room is closer to your room than mine. Oh, I'm sorry, I mean, thanks. You know I wanted my alarm to go off at three AM instead of noon."

I took a deep breath in and breathed out, my shoulders rising and falling with the motion. "Sorry." My chest tightening the moment the word rolled off my tongue. We'd made up since _that_ fight. At least I thought we had until the way his eyes flickered indicated my apologies weren't welcome. "I'll, uh, go back to bed," I said and booked it for the door.

Steve grabbed a clump of my hair. "Wait a minute." He pulled me back as patiently as someone could pull someone else's hair and whirled me around to face him. "You already woke me up, so I'll be damned if you go back to bed without explaining what the hell for. Any good reason? Or you'd just wanna remind me you can be as annoying as Shannon when you damn well wanna be?"

I shrugged. "Who says I wanted to wake you up?"

"I'm serious, what the hell is it?"

I shrugged again. Angela? I couldn't sleep? All things he didn't really need to be bothered with, because I honest to God realized I _was _being annoying. However, I also realized it'd be more annoying to cause all this commotion and then walk away without a word, so I had to think of something. "I'm sick of this whole family," I muttered, clasping my arms over my gut. That was his line, not mine, and worse, I was saying it just when I was beginning to like Shannon. But it was one of the thoughts keeping me up. One among thousands in my brain, but it might've crossed my mind a time or two between worrying about Angela. "How many other women has Dad slept with? We got any other siblings?"

I thought about Angela's mom. If his track record was as extensive as hers, who knew how many others there were. Shannon and Jack were two out of millions.

His nose and forehead crinkled in disgust. "Is it your goal to ask about everyone's personal life tonight?"

No, I was just thinking aloud. I needed stop doing that.

"Please don't need to concern yourself with his love life. No one should."

I swallowed. The roof of my mouth was dry and my tongue prickly. What happened to TV? My face blanched as the realization of my stupidity hit me in double. So no doubt waking him up made me a moron, but seeing as it was the middle of the goddamned night, each channel was off the air. I'd be watching static.

"I don't mean to talk about his _you know_," I blurted. "I dunno, I get used it everything being one way. Then he changes it. He gets married to someone else or loses his job or I dunno, but I'm sick of it. I don't want more surprises."

"Well, get used to that disappointment," Steve muttered, tone callous enough he might as well have yelled it. "That's the one thing that ain't ever gonna change about him. There'll always be surprises."

I nodded and inched for the doorknob again. It was clear if I stayed a minute longer, he'd be shouting by the end of it.

"Hey, where you think you're going?"

"Back to bed," I mumbled.

He moved in front of the door. "Why're you really here? I mean, don't get me wrong, Charlie's a deadbeat, yeah, but it's always been that way."

I shook my head and shifted my eyes to his carpet. "I just can't sleep," I said in vain. "Angela an' Carol an—"

"Woah, what about Carol? She do something?"

I shook my head. No, it was more me than her, but I didn't know how to explain it.

"Then what the hell are you complaining about?"

I clenched and unclenched my fists in an effort to stay composed. I wasn't sure if it was lucky break or the pressure of Steve's glare, but the answer came to me. I didn't _want_ to like her and she was making that hard. If I liked her, there was nothing but disappointment ahead. When she finally got sick of Dad, and it would happen, I'd probably never see her again. Shannon, on the other hand, was my sister, so even if they split, I might see her at some point… But I couldn't just say that without it coming out wrong. "Nothing, I guess." In three seconds, his temper would ignite tenfold. Three, two…

"Doesn't seem like nothing." He sighed and crossed his arms. "Well, since you ain't talkin', I'm gonna start guessing. You're mad I called Angela. That sound right?"

I frowned and glanced away from him, ashamed he might be the slightest bit right. "Could you at least tell me what you said to her?"

"I said you weren't feeling well enough to go."

"What?" I gasped. "You lied?"

He rolled his eyes. "Jesus, what'd you think I said?"

"Something awful mean, 'cause you hate her."

The corners of his mouth rose, like he was about to laugh at me. "As tempting as that was, I figured a white lie might be a little less embarrassing to you, so you're welcome."

I didn't know what to say. He had an opportunity to be downright vicious, and he didn't take it.

"I just hope she isn't doing anything bad," I said. "I mean, maybe I should try to stop it."

"You mentioned something like that earlier, like a thousand times, and it's bullshit. If this is what you're keeping yourself up over…" He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. "Listen, you can't control what she does. She brings her problems on herself."

"Maybe, but—"

"But what? That's the way it is."

"No." That made her sound like she was a lost cause, and she wasn't.

Was she?

He placed his hands on my shoulders and looked down at me sympathetically. "Look, I've played this game with myself before, and it's a bad one. Your friends are your friends, and you care about them and do what you can, but you can only do so much."

I hung my head towards the floor and shut my eyes. It wasn't just the random advice he spouted off, 'cause he wanted to be bossy; this was advice with experience behind it. I lifted my head and nodded. "Yeah, I guess you couldn't stop Soda from dropping out or racing Darry's truck."

"I wasn't talking about Soda." His voice was tight, and he pulled his hands back down to his sides. "He dropped out for good reason, and Darry's truck was plenty stupid, but ain't like it changed his whole life."

I breathed in a slow, shallow breath and looked at him expectantly. "Who're you talkin' about then?"

"Never mind, it ain't your business." He shifted his eyes away from me and rubbed his forehead. "Just remember what I said. You can only do so much. The rest is on her."

"Dallas?" I guessed.

He glared at me, the wrath in his eyes close to looks I'd seen him give Dad. "I told you it ain't your business."

There was no way he took his own advice. It should've been obvious from the get go, and to think of all the hours he'd spent beating himself up over things he could've done was surreal. Angela'd dodged a pregnancy, Dallas died.

He speared a finger at the door. "Damn it, just go to fucking bed already."

My hands started to tremble. I breathed in and out and took a huge gamble, stepping closer to him instead of leaving. I wrapped my arms around his waist and debated telling him it wasn't his fault and that he couldn't have done anything. That was the original plan, but instead, I just hugged him. "You're right about Angela."

I heard him exhale, and he returned the embrace. "You think?"

I didn't think, I knew. Still, it was easier to acknowledge I couldn't help her than to actually believe it.

Believing it was the hard part, and it only got harder, because nothing, not even this talk with Steve, could prepare me for what she'd done.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Saturday, January 14__th__, 1967_

I reached the Shepard house first thing the following morning—before Steve woke up, before I could bother to ask Dad if it was okay for me to leave. It was nine AM. An ungodly early hour for the Shepard's, except maybe for Tim who took advantage of whatever hour was advantageous to him, but funny enough, I found Curly sitting on their front porch smoking a cigar and wide awake. Something was up.

"You actually smoke those things?" I asked Curly as soon as he was within earshot.

"Well, good morning to you too, Miss Randle."

I tried not to scrunch my nose from the smell. "Hey."

"This here is Earl's probably." He lifted the cigar for me to get a closer look and grinned. "Found a box of 'em just laying around. Would you believe we got all sorts of remnants from that lazy pile of shit? Ma won't dare touch it. Oh no. Gotta save it for when he returns, right? Even the alcohol, but too bad Angel sure got her hands on that fast, and now I'm smoking up his cigar collection, 'cause I can."

"How nice of you two…" I crossed my arms to protect myself from the cold. Desperate to get here, I left with only a sweater for covering, and now thanks to that carelessness, I shivered from head to toe. The wind blew my hair around my face too. I let it happen, hoping Curly wouldn't notice how much the smell continued to bother me. It had to be sleep deprivation that had me this queasy. Stomach acid was crept up the back of my throat, and my head throbbed and throbbed. "Speaking of her, you know where she is?"

"Yeah," he sneered, as if the answer was obvious. "Upstairs in her room recovering from the wild night she had."

I nodded and zipped past him, only for him to spring up and grab my arm. "Leave her be."

"Why?"

"'Cause."

"She okay?"

He glared and shook his head.

"What happened?"

"Damn it, you're persistent," he huffed, uncharacteristically bitter. "It ain't none of your business, okay?"

"C'mon, Curly, just tell me," I begged.

"Why should I? Like I said, it ain't none of your damn business."

"It is too my business. She's my best friend." I stomped my foot to the porch indignantly and matched his glare. "I care about her as much as you, so you better tell me what's up with her now, or I swear to God I'll—"

"What exactly is a little girl like you gonna threaten me with, huh?" he dared me, lifting an eyebrow. "You got a gun hidden in your pocket I don't know about? Just let it alone, alright? Take a few deep breaths. She'll be fine, and that's all you need to know."

I gritted my teeth, frustrated I couldn't think of a comeback.

"See you around, kid," he said in a patronizing tone as he shooed me off the porch.

I should've turned around and left, but I couldn't stand the way he was acting like a complete jerk when he _knew_ I cared about Angela. He didn't have to act like her secrets were sacred around me. Around anyone else, he could keep his trap shut, but _not_ me. He was probably just jealous I knew more about his sister than he did.

"You gonna go or am I gonna have to get mean?" He rested his back against the door and stroked his chin. "Hmm, let's see here. I could find myself another worm to stick in your hair. I seem to remember you screaming for a minute straight a couple summers ago."

"Shut up, Curly."

"Or how 'bout a spider this time? Yeah, a spider sounds alright. Tell me again now how you were gonna threaten me? I'd love to see that gun. Oh wait, you don't have one?" He bared a self-satisfied grin and waved goodbye. "In that case, I'll see you later."

That was it. I'd use the only weapon I had. "I'll tell my brother you made a pass at me unless you tell me what happened to Angela."

He peeled himself away from the door and strolled over to me. "Shit, you really are her friend, ain't ya? She'd do something like that. Bend the truth to get me or Tim to beat some guy to a pulp. By the way, I ain't scared of your brother. He ain't as tough as he thinks he is."

"Neither are you," I shot back. "None of you guys are."

He laughed. "Excuse me, but what the hell do you know about being a guy?"

"Well, you just beat on each other to show off, and all it proves is you're a bunch of insecure assholes."

Curly didn't default to laughter this time. His face reddened and he hopped off the porch to tower over me, much like Tim would if he wanted to intimidate someone. Usually Curly took shit as well as he dished it out, so I felt at ease teasing him, but I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't race. "Insecure asshole, huh?" he questioned. "Well, I could give two shits whether you think I'm insecure or an asshole, but I ain't spillin' my kid sister's secrets without good reason. Not even to you. I mean it this time. Go home."

He stepped away, but his demeanor remained the same.

"Didn't you say you owed me one last week?" I pointed out desperately. "Well, I didn't sleep at all last night, 'cause I was worried about her. Besides, I was the one who told you about _you know_, wasn't I?"

He massaged his temples between his fingers and sighed. "Alright, alright, you win, but we ain't talkin' out here," he gave in and motioned me for me to follow inside. "C'mon."

Once inside, I heard the commotion from Angela's room and dove for the stairs.

He pushed himself in front of me and ushered me to the kitchen. "Just ignore that."

"She okay?"

"I already told you she's fine. Let's just say she's intoxicated, but she'll be fine. Our mother's taking good care of her, believe it or not."

"But if she was drunk, shouldn't she get be hungover by now?"

He shook his head the same way Steve did whenever he thought I was asking stupid questions. "It ain't alcohol."

"But didn't you say she's recovering from a wild night?

"Yeah, as in she took something else, but I dunno what."

"Grass?" I guessed.

He pointed a finger to the ceiling. "Grass don't usually cause that kind of outburst unless it's really strong stuff, so I dunno about that."

I sucked in a breath and listened. He was right. Her yells weren't just the same old angry insults she tossed at her mother on a daily basis; they were out of genuine fear . My knees collapsed, and I balanced myself against the kitchen table. "You sure? When I smoked it with her once, it made me feel pretty weird. What if she smoked it and drank at the same time?"

"You ain't got a clue what you're yapping about." Curly closed fists at his sides. I could tell he was getting more and more annoyed with my ignorance, so I slunk into the nearest chair and held my tongue.

"Trust me, I've done enough to know it's mostly harmless."

"Mostly harmless?" I wondered aloud.

"I ain't giving you a lesson on weed here, damn it," he hissed and smacked his fist against the table.

"Fine." I stood up and drug my feet away from the table.

"Wait," he called after me.

"What?"

"You know how she could've gotten her hands on something?"

At first it seemed like a dumb question. She probably found whatever it was around here, but the longer I stared at him, the more it seemed like he was asking me if I knew about Mark. I'd seen him give Angela something a couple months ago. Still, that was just grass, and if Curly thought that was harmless, what did that matter? He didn't seem like the kind of guy who'd do anything else. He was best friends with Bryon, and Bryon certainly wouldn't. Hell, Bryon seemed frustrated with Angela whenever she drank too much.

"Yeah, me either, but you keep this secret, savvy?" He ran a hand through his hair and nodded like he trusted me. "She didn't start going nuts until _after_ she got home. Probably took it then for all I know, so if you keep your trap shut, no one has to know except us."

I nodded. I would. If Steve heard this, that would be the end of the end of my friendship with Angela as I knew it. This would officially be the last straw.

"One more thing before you go," he piped up again. "She and Bryon back together?"

"Yeah."

"Good," he grunted. "Can't believe that smug dork don't realize how bad she's playing him, but he's better than the others. James… he's a real piece of work. Dunno why Tim ever let him in the gang. Least he's a good fighter. Probably the only reason Tim kept him around."

"Julia, what're you doin' here so early on a Saturday?"

Curly and I both jumped at the sound of his mother's voice.

"Curly, go keep an eye on your sister, and quit smoking Earl's cigars."

"But I wasn't—"

She clocked upside the head. "You were too. I already told you I don't care, but he will, and he's coming home this week."

Curly rolled his eyes. "Uh huh."

She reached out to smack him again, but he'd darted off and started up the stairs.

"Angela's sick, hon, you might wanna come back another day," Patricia said quietly.

"It's okay, I understand."

She forced a smile and turned her back to me to pick up the phone.

I clammed up, afraid she was phoning an ambulance.

She fumbled with the receiver as she tried to dial the number, dropping it three times.

She glared at me and waved her hand for me to leave as the phone rang.

I scrambled away, but before I reached the door, I heard her wail, "Can you please come sooner? We need you here now. Today."

It was Earl she'd called.

I loitered by the front door to hear the rest of the conversation; at least her end. It sounded like he'd agreed to come, and I made a dash for the stairs to warn Curly.

"What the hell're you doin', you nosy little shit?" Patricia boomed behind me. "I told you to come back another day."

She grabbed my ear and drug me outside. "Go home," she ordered, pointing her finger in the opposite direction my house.

She stood there cross-armed, watching me close as I hustled away.

"I _am_ leaving, okay? No need to watch me," I called back at her, more annoyed that she still thought Earl was the solution to their problems than another else.

I paused and stared, wondering if she'd bother scolding me, but she just turned around and went back inside.

xxxx

I ran the entire way home and panted for air the moment I burst through the door.

Carol noticed my presence and approached me. "Julia, where we were all morning? Your father never said a word about you leaving."

That was because I didn't ask him, and I didn't need this right now. "I just … went to … a friend's for … a little bit."

"You could've told one of us." She was starting to get the same strict tone about her she had when she'd tried to ground me. Same disapproving scowl too. "And why aren't you wearing a jacket?"

"Well, I'm sorry I didn't say anything and excuse me for forgetting a jacket, but it was only for a little bit, and for a good reason." I gasped, stunned I'd managed to spit it out in an entire breath, but my triumph fell flat.

"You don't have to talk to me like this," she warned and pulled me back when I tried to escape for my room. "I just asked you a few questions out of honest concern. There's no need to get snippy."

Damn her for sounding logical. She was right. I was being rude, but it wasn't on purpose. At least I didn't think it was. I was a mess after hearing about Angela and I needed time to myself to process it; without her interference or anyone's.

"You can't just come and go whenever you feel like it," she said. "You have to—"

"Well, I didn't wanna wake anyone up, okay?" I found myself hollering at her, despite the urge not to. If she could see how upset I was, she'd know I was only arguing with her because I was on the verge of bawling.

"Julia … Julia _Randle_," she scolded, sounding frustrated she couldn't produce my middle name.

"Leave me the hell alone," I said and tore my arm out of her grip.

I made a successful break for my room and slammed the door.

The impact of the slam rattled through my body, and I nearly fell apart. Oh God, I didn't need to do that. She really was just worried about me. I shoved my face into my pillow and screamed.

The door swung open, and I shot up, expecting to see a furious Carol, but instead it was a concerned Shannon.

"What?" I moaned, ever mourning the loss of my privacy. Sharing a room was the worst thing that had ever happened to me.

She ran over to me and pounced onto the bed. "You're making Mommy really mad," she whispered loudly.

I rolled my eyes.

"So, so, so, so, _soo_ mad," she continued. "Don't do anything else, or you might get a timeout!"

Ooo, a timeout? Oh, of all the things to be afraid of. "Thanks for the heads up."

"If she does give you a timeout though, stay in the corner or else you'll get in worse trouble," she instructed carefully, voice laced with fear for my safety. "I mean, so bad you'll probably cry."

"Oh yeah? How so?"

Her eyes widened. "You'll get a lickin'."

"I probably won't," I said, so certain of it I almost laughed at her.

"She might tell Dad, and you might," she warned me. "Good thing my old daddy isn't here. He hits a lot harder than Mommy, and sometimes, if you're really bad, he makes you take off your clothes before he does."

And in one sentence, she made me no longer feel sorry for myself. I swallowed, ill to think of how often that might have happened. Thank God I hadn't laughed. Now all I wanted to do was cry. She said it like it was a common, normal occurrence, like she was petrified this could happen to me. No wonder she didn't want me to get in trouble.

"Does our dad do that?" she asked, eyes ever wider than they were a second go.

I hesitated, wanting to promise he'd never hit her, but unsure I could trust good ol' Charlie to never lay a hand on her. "Never like that," I said. That much I could guarantee.

She hugged me as tight as her small arms could squeeze me. "Don't worry. I'll tell Mommy you said you're sorry."

One of these days I was gonna tell her mommy wasn't my mommy, but I didn't have it in me to crush her will to protect me. Especially not if it made her feel better, considering what she'd just told me.

I mean, Carol probably would tell my dad, and he'd yell at me until he was hoarse.

And then she'd yell at him because he she didn't intend for him to treat me like that.

And then they'd just fight, and fight, and fight until he finally divorced her too.

But none of that ever happened.

Carol said nothing when he got home, and she was nothing but kind to me the rest of the weekend. It was as if she planned to punish me by killing me with kindness.

xxxx

_Monday, January 16__th__, 1967_

I started off my Monday in Mr. Hanson's office. They were irate I'd skipped out on our detention time, which I'd all but forgotten until, of course, they bothered to remind me. "C'mon, Mr. Hanson, I have to babysit my little sister after school. You think I can help that?"

"No, but you can help your attitude."

Two minutes into this meeting, and he already had a strict teacher tone going. I wasn't sure when or how it happened, but somehow, I'd gained the ability to piss people off as fast as Steve. I rested my hands on my thighs and dug my fingernails into my skin to keep from mouthing off. Why was it so hard to be polite? It used to be easy.

"I've about had it with the way you've been acting, Miss Randle," he rattled on. "I'd expect this kind of behavior out of your brother, but a young woman like you should know how to conduct herself in a school. Your mouth is atrocious. You should be ashamed of yourself."

I hated those words. They always reduced me to feeling like shit. My eyes darted off, and I picked at my nail beds, hoping this lecture would end soon.

"Now I understand that you have obligations to your family, so I'm willing to cut a deal with you," he proposed, much to my shock.

I looked up attentively and nodded for him to continue.

"I'll forgive your detentions if you come in early for tutoring," he said. "I already told you your friend Rachel was willing to help, didn't I? I think this could do you good. You need to get your grades up. If you focus on your studies, I think it'll keep you out of trouble."

That was great except Rachel wasn't my friend. She wasn't, damn it. She fucking wasn't.

"So what do you say?"

_No, no, no, and no_. I'd rather die than associate with her after what she'd done to me.

"Like I said, this is an excellent opportunity for you."

I grimaced. This was a horrid idea, and yet, no detention was enticing. "Okay."

"Great, I'll inform her you'll start tomorrow."

"Thanks, Mr. Hanson," I said as earnestly as I could fake and excused myself from his office.

Angela cornered me before I reached my locker. "Jule, I need to talk to you."

And Mr. Hanson had just forgiven my detentions. What the hell did she want now? "Can we talk just a little now and more after school?"

She shook her head and pulled on my arm. "C'mon, I promise it won't take long."

If it weren't for what had happened this weekend, I'd have said no. When we reached the dumpster, she couldn't stop fidgeting, looking awfully anxious to talk to me about whatever this was. That should've been my first clue this was about to get bad.

"I know about what happened this weekend," I told her, hoping it'd ease her nerves a little bit. "You don't have to explain it."

She breathed a sigh of relief and shoved a bag of something in my pocket.

"What the—"

She clapped hand over my mouth and swatted my hand when I tried to reach into my pocket.

"Earl's back, and I can't risk having it around anymore," she explained, voice just above a whisper. "He'll kick me out or something, and now that I ain't pregnant, James wants nothing to do with me."

"Having what around?" I asked, voice muffled by her hand.

"It ain't much, I promise, I just need you to hide it for a while," she said urgently. "It should be easy for you. No one'll suspect anything when it's you."

"Why don't you just ask Curly to do something with it or something?" I suggested. "Jesus, Angela you can't expect me to do something like _this_."

"If I had other options, don't you think I'd have considered them first?"

"What in Heaven's name are you two ladies doing out here?"

I turned to see a female teacher I didn't recognize standing ten feet away from us.

"Go now, and I'll distract her," Angela whispered in my ear.

I had a choice at that moment—I could either toss whatever was in my pocket at the teacher's feet and tell Angela exactly what I thought she could do with herself, or I could run and figure out what to do later.

"Oh, hi, Mrs. Freeman," I heard Angela behind me. "I almost didn't recognize you you've gotten so fat."

I ran.


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Angela's drugs felt like lead in my pocket as I fled. Each time the contents lightly brushed against my hipbone, it might have well have been a bruise from a crowbar. I didn't know what was in there. I wasn't sure I _wanted _to know, and that was the scariest part. Maybe it was my imagination, but it felt like more than a tiny bag, like something hard and cylindrical.

Damn me for wearing this sweater. This bulky, frumpy piece of shit with pockets. Damn it for having pockets. I only wore it because it was better than Steve's old jacket... It was Aunt Rita's actually. She'd left it here, and I wouldn't dare touch it for the longest time, too creeped out by the thought of wearing something that belonged to a dead person, but it looked like something a girl should wear. Hideous, sure, but it was better than nothing.

Maybe I missed her too. She died before we had a chance to make things right, and here I was doing something that'd make her have a heart attack all over again.

Dad hadn't taken us inside a church in years, and even I was praying like a maniac, praying Aunt Rita's spirit would somehow save me from this mess. I didn't care how ridiculous it sounded. I was desperate.

"What in God's name are you doin' out of class, Miss Randle?"

I recognized the voice immediately.

"Hi, Mr. Hanson."

He crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow for me to explain myself.

"I had to, um, I was just telling Angela she shouldn't be skippin' class, you know," I rattled off. "Cause I don't want her to get in trouble, right? I was gonna head right back in, I promise, but—"

Not buying it for a second, Mr. Hanson seized my arm and escorted me back into the building. "I've about had it with your lies and excuses, young lady. It ends now."

My heart thumped faster, and I tried to wiggle my way out of his grip. The way he scolded me had hit the wrong nerve. Did he think I was Angela now? He never gave her a chance to explain herself either. "They aren't excuses, I swear."

"Enough. I don't wanna another word."

"But this is bullshit," I said anyway. "She's my friend and I care about her. Why's that so goddamned hard for everyone to believe?"

The beat of silence that followed was deafening.

"I mean, I'm sorry, but—" _you're kind of being an asshole_. I stopped myself. I'd already dug myself a deep hole, and cuss words I'd already muttered had sealed my fate.

"I was just looking out for her," I finished my thought to no avail.

He hauled me to his office, shut the door, and reached for the paddle.

_Shit. _

"I really was just looking out for her," I said.

"I don't care if you were or not," he said sternly. "You know better than to skip class and you know better than to curse at me. Rules are rules for a reason, Miss Randle, and when you break them, there are consequences."

"I didn't _mean_ to swear at you either, you know."

His face was just as impassive as it was a second ago. "Lean over the desk."

"C'mon, Mr. Hanson, we can work something else out, can't we?" I offered up as my final plea. Honest, I was more afraid of what might fall on the floor when I bent over the desk than his stupid paddle.

"Now," he ordered.

I complied slowly, thankful the contents of my pocket remained put. I considered myself lucky until my next thought was intercepted by a blow that knocked the wind out of me. I didn't expect him to strike that hard; that was twice as hard as the first and only time other he'd whacked me. I ground my teeth together and tried to take solace in knowing I'd never hit brother's record. I gasped when second landed. _  
_

There wasn't a third. Despite everything, he'd shown me mercy.

Or not.

"You will be attending detention today," he informed me as I straightened my back out. "Against my better judgement, I'll let our deal stand for the rest of the time you owe me, but you _will_ be in dentention for the time you missed this morning. No exceptions."

"But my sister," I started.

"I'll call your father and let him know he'll have to make different arrangements."

I paled, certain Dad would kill me for getting yet another call from the school—if not for the inconvenience alone.

Mr. Hanson sent me on my way with a strong warning I could expect hell every time I was sent to see him for the rest of the year. Okay, so he didn't use those words, but what different did it make? In his mind, I'd officially joined the ranks of Angela.

Why did I care what he thought about me anyway? He was just the lousy principal.

Who could swing like a baseball player apparently.

I limped to class when no one was watching. Mostly to feel sorry for myself. I even stopped at the girl's bathroom to delay the inevitable, and my minute long reprieve turned into a prolonged ordeal.

I lost it in a bathroom stall and spiraled into a miserable mess because why? I'd gotten my second period. Why couldn't I have noticed this sooner? It looked like I'd been bleeding since morning, and what if Mr. Hanson had noticed somehow? It didn't seem possible, but I was mortified nonetheless.

I didn't have a pad—or a tampon. Come to think of it, I still didn't know how to use a tampon, but I could've figured it out in my desperation. I needed something. Hell, I thought about making a makeshift pad out of toilet paper, but there was already enough blood in my underwear, it was a miracle it hadn't bled through to my skirt.

Sweat dripped down my forehead and joined the tears on my cheeks. I should've shoved this sweater in my locker before I hit the bathroom. Maybe I had something hidden in the mess of books and papers, but of course I couldn't let Angela's drugs out of my sight. Goddamned Angela's drugs. What if someone broke into my locker and thought I was using them? It was too risky. Everything about the rest of my existence would be risk until she took them back.

I took a deep breath and reached inside. If I was gonna wig out, I should at least know what I was hiding. I pulled out a small bag of exactly what I suspected, grass, but there was also a small bottle. A prescription to Patricia G. Stark for … something complicated.

I squinted to read the label—_Benzedrine _something or other. What the hell was that? How was Patricia able to afford going to a doctor in the first place? And how did Angela get her hands on it? I groaned, wondering if this was what'd she'd taken the other night It'd certainly explain why her mother was so nice to her. If Angela had taken_ her_ drugs, she really oughta be.

I shoved the bag and bottle back in my pocket and buried my face in my hands. My tears hadn't slowed one bit. I couldn't control them. This was too much. All of it, too much.

I held my breath when a girl walked in in a failed attempt to silence myself. After a minute, I gasped for air. Whoever it was was taking her time. I gave up.

"Hey, are you okay? Who's in here?"

"No one," I snapped back, and that was my mistake.

"Oh, Julia, it's Rachel," the familiar voice cooed. "What's wrong?"

Rachel. Fucking Rachel Mathews. I bolted out of the stall on a whim and cringed when the pill bottle hit the floor. It didn't cracked. Thank God, it hadn't cracked, and I shoved it back into my pocket as fast as I could, praying Rachel hadn't seen it, but she had. Of course she had.

She stared at me wide-eyed, her mouth gaping open. She leaned forward and pointed to my pocket. "What's that?" she whispered.

"None of your fucking business, that's what."

She blushed. "Don't say that word. We're in school."

"I'll fucking say whatever the hell I damn well want to," I shot back.

"Shhhhh." She forced a hand over my mouth. "If a teacher hears you, you'll get in trouble."

I pried her hands off me and glared at her. At least my annoyance gave me a means to stop my bawling. "So what, I already got paddled today, and I don't give a shit."

"You got paddled? I didn't think they did that to girls except for Angela."

"Yeah, well, sometimes they do," I huffed and stepped in front the mirror to adjust my hair, telling myself she'd disappear if I ignored her.

Her reflection got larger in the mirror. I whirled around and crossed my arms.

"Did it hurt?" she asked in a hushed tone.

"Whadda you think?"

"I'm sorry," she squeaked out sincerely. "I've never had it happen to me."

I faltered. She was kinda being nice. I whipped around again to avoid looking at her.

She placed a hand on my shoulder. "Hey, Julia. I think you, um, I think you got your period. You got a bit of a stain on your skirt."

I grimaced. "You sure?"

"I have a pad if you need one," she offered. "Oh, and you can borrow my skirt too. I mean, the extra one I keep in my locker."

I pivoted back to her. "You keep an extra one?"

She nodded. "When I got mine, my mom told me I should in case something like this ever happened."

Rachel was the luckiest girl alive. Her mother had to be the best mother on the face of the earth. "You'd do that for me?" I asked sheepishly. "I mean, even after I've been kind of bitchy to you?"

She shrugged. "Well, to be fair, I _was_ kind of a ...well, mean person to you, too, and you'd do the same for me, wouldn't you?"

I bit my lip and nodded. I wasn't sure about that. I would if she really needed it, maybe, but not willingly.

"So are we friends again?" she chirped.

"Yeah," I said reluctantly. "Under one condition, though—you don't tell a soul about the pills. They're not mine anyway. I'm just hiding them for someone, but that's another story."

"Don't worry," she assured me, "I'm good at keeping secrets, and you stay right here. I'll be right back."

And she was. With the pad and skirt as promised.

And she walked with me to the office with me to get me a pass.

I was wary, but she assured me it was a good idea.

Fortunately and unfortunately, she was right. After a mortifying explanation, the secretary grinned sympathetically and whipped into Mr. Hanson's office. I couldn't make out what she'd said but it sounded like she was irritated. A minute later, he stepped out, face beat red from embarrassment, not anger. He approached me, spit out an apology as fast as he could, and told me I could forget about detention.

I was so confused.

When the secretary returned, she plopped down in her seat and shook her head. "I _told_ him I didn't think Angela was lying this time," she said with a sigh as she wrote me a pass. "I just knew you'd be too embarrassed to tell him yourself. I'm so sorry, dear. I'm afraid men just don't understand these kinds of things."

So Angela'd told them this was why I'd chased after her? The coincidence was enough to make me nauseous.

I owed Rachel some gratitude. Not Angela. Angela only got lucky.

It pained me to admit that, but I figured it was Rachel's presence that made everyone change their minds. I might've cussed at Mr. Hanson again, because holding my tongue was apparently a lost art in my brain.

She just ... she had that effect on people. I used think she was nothing like her brother, but I realized she was just as charming in her own right.

Maybe she could be a good friend.

xxxx

The rest of the day was great until it wasn't. I made it through my classes and walking Shannon home, but not without panic attack after panic attack. Close call after close call, and after supper, Steve was onto me.

Dad, Carol, and Shannon had gone to get groceries, so it was just us, and he got right to interrogating me. "You're actin' funny," he accused in his usual direct fashion. "What's your bag?"

"Nothin'."

"Nothin', huh? Why can't you look me in the eye then?"

"_Nothin'_," I said, still staring at the ground.

Sometimes I really hated him. I'd never make it out of this night alive because he refused to give in. I started crying again from the frustration, which only made me more frustrated. I wasn't a bawl baby anymore, but today, I just couldn't keep it together, and I couldn't hide drugs. I couldn't do it. Today would mark the second day I outted Angela's secrets to Steve.

"You gotta promise you let me explain before you go ape."

"Alright, fine, I promise," he agreed, crossing his arms.

It was far from a reassuring promise, but the longer I put it off, the crazier I'd get. At least this way he could help me. I exhaled a slow breath and lifted my pillow off my bed. Why I selected this as my pathetic excuse of a hiding place was beyond me.

Steve immediately snatched the bottle up and growled, "What the hell is this?"

Funny the grass didn't bug him as much.

"What the hell is this?" he demanded and tossed it back down after he'd read the label. "What the hell do you have this for?"

I couldn't answer him I was too distraught, and it only made his reaction worse. "You tryin' to tell me this is yours?" He stabbed a finger at it. "It better not be, or I swear—"

"No," I managed, but I couldn't get anything else out.

He shoved his hands into his hair. "Who's is it then, hm?"

"Angela's," I choked out.

"So you got it from her, you mean?"

"I dunno," I wailed.

"What you do mean you don't know?" He grabbed my shoulders and shook me. "Did you or did you not?"

"It's not mine, I'm hiding it for her."

"That makes no sense."

"It's true."

"Well, I dunno what the hell to believe, and even if you're tellin' the truth, what the hell're you doin' that for?"

I shrugged. I didn't want to hide them. I had no choice. The teacher came before I could hand them back.

Steve cuffed me upside the head. "You really this indifferent about it? You don't think this is serious? That you could put yourself in one hell of a dangerous situation here?"

"No!" I wasn't indifferent at all. That was why I was telling him this. That was why I was sobbing.

He shook his head in disgust. "Do you ever think about shit before you do it?"

I collapsed unto the bed and curled up against the pillow. "Just take 'em and get rid of 'em for me," I said. "I don't want it. Please, just get right of it.

"Well, at least you make a little fucking sense." He grabbed both items and stormed away.

"And don't you think for a second we're done with this conversation," he said as he slammed the door.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself, but within minutes, my pillowcase was drenched in tears and Steve still hadn't returned.

I eventually fell asleep.

xxxx

"Damn it, get up," Steve bellowed from the doorway, startling me awake. "I have one question for you, and I want an answer now. What're those pills for?"

"I don't even remember what they're called," I said. "I dunno what they do. I dunno why Angela even has them."

"Shit, you really don't know a damn thing about it, do you?"

"What are they?" I asked.

"Nothin' you need to concern yourself with," he breathed in relief as he approached me.

When he reached me, he settled himself next to me and placed a hand on my back. "I believe you, they're not yours," he said. "I mean, you don't even know what they are, so how could they be? But just tell me this. What exactly makes it your responsibility to hide Angela's things?"

"It's a long story," I muttered. "I don't even know if you wanna hear it."

"Well, I'm not leaving until I _do_ hear it, so start talking."

It took me a few a little while to compose myself, but I eventually got the story out through tears and all. I told him about everything; except for period. That'd be too embarrassing.

"Guess I shouldn't have jumped down your throat so soon," he concluded, rubbing the back of his neck. "It ain't 'cause I don't trust you. I just can't stand the thought of you gettin' into anything like that."

He brushed the hair that had fallen over my face away from my eyes and smiled at me. "I'm proud of you for telling me," he said, voice much gentler than it was ten seconds ago. "Can't have been easy when your big brother's a bit of a hothead, huh?"

I shook my head.

He pulled me against his side and held me there while I cried out the rest of my frustrations. It'd been a long time since I fell apart like this. Probably not since we left dad to be arrested at that gas station in Kansas. "What if Angela hates me for telling you?"

"Jesus, Jule, you thought the same thing when you told me she was pregnant, and nothing ever came of that, did it?"

I shrugged.

"If she gets mad, you blame me," he told me firmly. "Tell her I found 'em on you and figured it out 'cause her mom's name's on the damn prescription bottle."

I guess that was as good of an explanation as any, but something told me there was no way our friendship _wouldn't_ be affected by this.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I tried to relax and not think about Angela, but Steve made it impossible to do either. He just couldn't leave the conversation at insisting I could blame him. That'd have been too generous; no, he _had_ to give me the same damn Angela lecture I'd heard a billion times. This time, with more conditions. That was the only way he'd allow me to be friends with her, as though he truly felt it was his God-given right to decide who my friends could and couldn't be. Man, I was hacked at him, but I was too shaken up to protest.

Besides, the frustration only served to put me in worse tears—so bad by the time I finally got ahold of myself, I vowed it'd be the last time I'd cry in years. If somebody died, I'd make an exception, but I hated the way it made me feel. Especially tonight. I had zero control over my emotions. If I was sad, I cried. If I mad, I cried. If I was anything, I cried. It didn't matter because the end result was always tears, and I'd had it with myself and being this sensitive. So what if I was less of a baby than I was a year ago—less wasn't good enough; I didn't want to be one period.

I sucked in a breath and turned to Steve. He was hovering over me, about to go off on a second speech. I'd remained silent in hopes he'd leave me alone with no luck, and his bossiness wasn't the only nuisance. His presence alone reminded me I'd spent much of the last hour bawling on his shoulder, and yet, I didn't want him to leave either. There was something comforting about his tenacity, knowing he cared enough to be the bossiest brother he could possibly be.

He poked my arm and groaned, "I don't appreciate the way you're ignoring me right now."

I rolled my eyes.

"Let me guess, you hate me 'cause you know I speak the truth?"

I folded my arms over my stomach and muttered, "Well, I'm not gonna stop being friends with her if that's what you want me to say."

"You better stop hangin' around her though," he advised, shaking a finger in my face. "I'll be damned if you toss your life away. Trust me, you don't wanna go where she's goin'. And you sure as hell don't need to do what she's doin' neither, you hear me?"

"Excuse me, but when did this become your decision to make?"

He didn't answer me; just stared like I shouldn't dare question it.

"Maybe I just wanna help her," I said. "Maybe that's all I'm tryin' to do. You ever thought of that, Steve? She trusts me more than anyone. If I ditch her, she'll be worse off without me. You don't g—"

"You can't help people who don't wanna be helped."

I thrust my fingers into my hair. "God, how do you even know that? You hardly even know her!"

"Know enough about her."

"You're a real shithead sometimes, Steve." I pulled my hands back down to my sides, accidentally yanking out a few strands of my hair in my fury. "If this was you and your friend we were talkin' about, I bet you'd think differently. If it was Soda, you wouldn't just ditch him, would you?"

"Soda ain't batshit crazy."

"She ain't crazy either," I yelled back. "She's just troubled."

"Troubled?" Steve blared loud enough the neighbors probably heard him. "Goddamn it, Julia, you're in seventh grade, and your best friend was pregnant and now she's on drugs. You don't think there's something wrong with this picture? If she ain't crazy, I dunno what the hell is."

"But—"

"No, I'm sick of hearing about this shit. You're just a little kid, damn it. You shouldn't even know half of what she does exists."

"I ain't a little kid." I shot to my feet as if it was supposed to prove something. "Not anymore. I'm almost a teenager."

"No," he said with resolve. "You're a little girl who thinks she knows what she's talkin' about when she ain't got a clue."

"Well, what makes you think you know so much?"

"I don't think I do, I _do_ know."

"Well, then you're just a cocky asshole."

He shrugged, unfazed by the insult. "I can live with that. What I can't live with, though, is you walking yourself into a world of trouble, and I'm sorry, but that's exactly where you're heading if you keep hangin' around her, and we've already been through this conversation a million and six times."

I eyed him viciously. I'd never wanted to punch him so hard in my life. "Well, it's great to know you trust me," I jeered. "Even though I told you about her drugs when I knew you'd blow up."

"An' I told you I was proud of you for that, didn't I?" he asked.

I clamped my teeth down on my lower lip and sighed. _Yes,_ he had, and it was amazing to hear, but that wasn't the point. The point was he shouldn't assume I'd be like her just because I was hanging out with her. That made him no better than Mr. Hanson. Just because I had this attitude didn't mean I was Angela. When would people get that?

"We've been through this before, Jule," Steve continued. "I trust you. I just don't trust her or any of the lousy people she calls her friends."

"Well, she calls me her friend," I pointed out. "So by what you just said, you don't trust me."

"You know what I meant. I said lousy people, and I don't think you're lousy." He leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. "I ain't arguin' with you anymore. I know I'm right, and I think you know it too, so why don't you stop now before you really piss me off, huh?"

"I'm pretty damn sure you're the one pissing me off."

He rose to his feet then, towering over me by at least a foot.

I crossed my arms and glanced away. He was more intimidating than I wanted to admit.

"Knock it off." He grabbed my chin and forced me to look at him. "You're not fooling anybody but yourself."

I pushed his hand off my face and shoved him towards the door. "Just leave me alone."

He stepped forward, veins in his neck bulging. "No, not until you get it through your head you're done with her."

"It's never happening, so you can give up now," I dared him, matching his intensity as best I could.

"You can hate me all you want, but somebody's gotta be the one of tell you this is getting out of hand. I'm damn sick of seein' you upset when she's the cause. How many times now have you come running to me up in arms over something she's done, huh?" Steve stepped forward and pulled me into a hug. "Not saying it bothers me when you do that." He squeezed me tighter. "You can always come to me for anything, but that don't mean you're always gonna like my answers, and right now I'm sayin' you need to be done with her for a while."

"No." He didn't get to decide that; I did.

"Yes, you are," he said. "No more, Jule. I've had it, and if you think about it long enough, you'll realize you have too."

That was where he was wrong. I'd had enough, but I wasn't abandoning her. There had to be a better way to go about it, and he was just too stubborn to consider it.

He released me from the embrace, but still held onto my shoulders from an arm's length. "Hey, whatever happened to that Leslie kid? Why aren't you hanging out with him more? He seems like a good enough friend, queer an' all."

"You know, it was Angela who introduced me to him," I said. "She was dating his brother, and he was the one who almost got her pregnant."

"Yeah, an' I felt bad for him, 'cause he's an alright guy. Kind of stupid, yeah, but alright."

I wanted to tell him once again that I could be her friend and still stay out of trouble, but the argument was finally winding down. As much as I hated to let him think he'd won, I knew it was the only way to get him off my back.

"Well, I told Evie I'd swing by her place when she got off work, so I better book it," he said, moving for the door. "I'll be back later tonight. You decide I'm right, you can let me know then."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say." God, he was full of himself.

I plopped down on my bed as soon as he was gone and tried to erase the last hour from my memory. Maybe I shouldn't have told him.

Dad and Carol returned with Shannon soon after. Shannon was all kinds of happy she'd convinced them to buy us ice cream she had to share it with me. She burst through my door and leapt unto the bed, nearly landing on top of me in her excitement. I hated to let her down by leaving so fast, but there was something I had to do, so I assured her I'd be back later and approached my father hesitantly. "Hey, Dad, can I go to a friend's for an hour?" I asked.

"On a school night?" Carol asked.

"It's only seven," I said.

"Don't you have homework?" she kept on.

Yes, but I could do that when I got home. She didn't have to hound me about every little thing.

"What friend?" Dad asked.

"Rachel Mathews," I said. "We're gonna work on an assignment together."

"Oh, well, in that case, I saw you oughta let her," Carol convinced Dad, and she shouldn't have.

I was awful. Absolutely awful for lying to them, and I was lucky as hell Steve had left because he would've see right through it. Despite the very heated conversation I'd had with him, I _was_ going to Angela's, and he couldn't stop me. It wasn't to see her anyway; it was for Curly. Angela would hate me, but I'd decided my best bet at helping her involved him. Tim would've been a better bet, but he was still locked away for a reason I didn't know.

"I guess so," Dad agreed. "You better be home by nine, though, or you'll have hell to pay."

"I'd have said eight," Carol chimed in. "Your father's bein' awfully generous, so I suggest you don't break your curfew."

"Don't worry, I will be," I assured her and bolted for the door before I said something snarky.

xxxx

I crossed my fingers as I stood outside the Shepard's door. There was a fifty-fifty shot of seeing Curly, I figured. It was a school night at least, so that upped the odds, but who knew with him.

Earl answered the door. "Angela ain't here," he barked at me and started shutting the door just as fast as he'd opened it.

"How 'bout Curly?" I asked.

"The hell do you wanna see him for?"

"I gotta ask him something."

Earl turned his head back inside and bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Curly, get your ass down here. Angela's friend wants to see you."

Curly cussed something at him in return and came to the door.

"Julia." He stepped onto the porch. "The hell do you want now?"

Earl slammed the door.

Curly smirked. "Jeez, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you got a crush on me the way you're always poppin' up outta nowhere."

I blushed and ignored him. "It's about Angela," I cut straight to the point and locked up. I'd rehearsed what I'd say the entire walk here, but now I was drawing blanks.

"What?" he demanded. "I ain't got all night here. Big plans an' all. You're wastin' my time, Randle."

It was strange being referred to by my last name, but even stranger I was having this conversation with him in the first place.

"Well, what is it?" he repeated, less patient than the first.

"I think Angela's taking your mom's pills," I coughed out before I lost the courage.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Curly stared at me for a moment, cursed something under his breath, and grabbed my arm.

"What the hell?" I demanded.

He held a finger over his lips and made a loud _shhh_ noise as he drug me off the porch.

I pulled against his grip and nagged him to let go the entire time, but we were nearly a block away before he explained him. "Are you retarded? If you wanna blab about shit like this, we _can'_t be where Earl might hear."

I stopped flailing. Glory, I felt stupid. Earl scared me more than he did any of them, so I should've been more cautious. I guess, I was too upset about Angela to think clearly.

"Now, Angela ain't takin' no pills. Least not Ma's. I know that for fact."

"But she tried to give them to me," I said. "She gave me a bottle of _your_ mom's pills and her grass 'cause she wanted me to hide them."

He looked dumbfounded. I sucked in a breath and did my best to explain the rest as we roamed through the neighborhood, and judging by the way he narrowed his eyes and scoffed at everything I said, I wasn't getting through to him.

"I dunno what the hell she would've given 'em to you for." He lit up a cigarette, took a drag, and blew the smoke in my face. "But you dunno what you're talking about. It's real sweet that you care about her, but she's got bigger problems than takin' Ma's crazy pills. I can guarantee ya that."

"Well, what'd she take that night? Was it those pills? How sure can you really be? She could be lying to you for all you know!"

He laughed and rolled his eyes. "You don't think I'm well aware my baby sis is a talented liar? Hell, she lies more than she tells the truth. Learned it from me and Tim. Know what she told me? She told me she was tossin' 'em out."

"I guess that meant giving them to me."

"Beats me. I don't make it my business to know everything about her or why she does the things she does, and you shouldn't either. All it does is drive you crazy and make you wonder why she ain't in some loony bin yet."

"How can you even say that?"

"Easy, it's the damn truth."

"Well, ain't you gonna try and stop her before she does something worse?" I asked.

"Yeah, but you can't just jump on her like that if you want her to listen to you." He flicked his cigarette ashes to the sidewalk and sighed. "That's what Tim does, and it don't work. Just backfires, 'cause she's stubborn as hell, and I would know 'cause I'm the same way. It's like the time Tim tried to tell me I wasn't wise enough to pull off robbing a store, and all I wanted to do for the rest of eternity was rob a damn store. I mean, he was right. Got caught and wound up in the reformatory for a bit, but the point is you tell us not to do something, and we find a way to do it. It's in our blood."

I remembered hearing about that incident and how Tim was furious Curly managed to charm himself into a shorter sentence when he'd never been able to. "Well, what does work then?"

"Look, I dunno what the hell I should do, but I know what I shouldn't do, so until I figure out what I oughta do, I ain't gonna get all bent out of shape about it."

I curled my lip under my teeth, astounded he could be this careless about everything. "So you don't even care about her then?"

He ignited at my suggestion. "The hell you talkin' about? I could kill someone just for makin' her cry, so yeah, I'd say I probably care about her."

"Then maybe you oughta do something about all this," I urged him. "You got a better shot than me. I mean, you don't have to jump down her throat, but at least do something. Talk to her."

"I dunno about that, Randle. I really don't."

I could tell by the way he said it he wished he did, so I backed off, but I did ask if he was sure about those pills. They had landed in my pocket, after all, so I was entitled to a little more information.

After much coaxing, he explained that he'd urged her to get rid of everything she had for fear of Earl's reaction. As for why she wanted me to hide them, his best guess was she wanted to sell them later. I guess that made sense. At least I wouldn't put it past her to try and make a buck off her mother.

I tried to ask a few more things while I had the chance. Specifically, what she took that night she was such a mess, but he refused and suggested it was time for him to walk me home.

xxxx

"Goddamn it, Julia," Dad yelled the second I stepped through the door.

I winced, well aware I was a half hour late.

He arose from the armchair and approached me fast. I stared at the beer bottles on the side table and gagged at how bad his breath reeked of alcohol. When I bothered to look at him, his eyes weren't as bleary and bloodshot as I'd seen them in the past, but it was clear he was drunk. "Sorry, I'm late," I said. "We got really busy working on the project, and I sorta lost track of time."

"It ain't that you're late." He seized my arm, his fingers cutting into my skin so deep I'd probably have bruises later. "It's that you lied to me. I ain't the idiot you think I am, little girl. You been in a nasty habit of lyin' to me lately, so better believe I called Rachel's house, and she says you ain't been there all night."

"Oh, did I say Rachel?" I laughed nervously. "I meant to say Leslie. Sorry, I went to Leslie's, _not_ Rachel's."

Dad let go of my arm without a word. I heaved a sigh, relieved he believed me until he started unbuckling his belt.

"Dad, I'm serious, I was at Leslie's."

"You're done lyin' to me," he spat as he doubled it over.

That was when I ran. I booked it as fast as I could for the hallway, paying little if any attention to where I was headed and bumped into Carol. I caught my breath, banking on the hope she'd defend me, but she only flipped me around and marched me back to the living room.

Dad tossed the belt on the floor when he saw us and glared at her. "_You_ were the one who told me I oughta lay down the law with her. _You_ said I oughta punish her if she lied to me again, and now you're gonna defend her?"

"How much you had to drink?" she asked, pushing me behind her.

"Jus' a couple beers."

"Don't seem like a couple."

He thrust his hands through his hair and began to pace. "Well, forgive me for bein' worried about her."

"That's your excuse?" she exclaimed, her entire body quivering in frustration.

"This was all your idea," he repeated, same as he always did. Always pinning the problem straight back on the other person. Nothing was ever his fault.

"I told you so," he started in a moment later, but she wouldn't hear it.

"I remember what you said, and it was a horrible suggestion."

"She'll listen to him." He kept pacing, faster and faster. "And it ain't like I said he had to do anything more than just talk to her, 'cause she'll listen to him. She won't listen to me or you, and you're kiddin' yourself if you think she ever will, but she _will_ listen to him."

I realized then they were talking about Steve and grew nauseous by the second.

"You want me to be father, but you won't let me all the same." Dad paused in front of us to jab a finger at Carol. "I dunno what the hell you want anymore, but I'm through with tryin' to please you. You're worse than my last wife."

"No, she's not," I said.

They locked eyes, and it was as if neither of them had even heard me speak they were so absorbed in their argument. They kept at it for several minutes. I swore it'd never end. Not until he divorced her too.

"Just go to bed," Carol told him in attempt to finish it. "You go on to bed, and I'll deal with this mess since you won't."

"Who says I won't?"

"I don't care anymore," she said wearily. "You shouldn't anyway, 'cause you're drunk."

"I ain't drunk."

She pointed to their room. "Just go."

Dad grumbled something under his breath and stalked off. Despite their incessant fighting, it amazed me to see she had _some_ authority over him. Rosie could nag all she wanted, but actually convincing him to listen was another story.

I inched away step by step, fingers crossed Carol might be too exhausted to make good on her word. She caught my wrist so fast I flinched. Her grip was much gentler than my father's, but she tugged me forward deliberately in such a way I didn't dare try to run.

She made me sit on the couch and seated herself beside me. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Maybe she'd only talk to me. I took a deep breath and reminded myself I needed to give her a chance.

"First things first, you're grounded."

Screw giving her chance. I shot up and shook my head. "Hell no, you ain't." I attempted to stare her down, as uncomfortable as that was. It wasn't being grounded as much as going back on the promise she'd made to me not even a week ago. She'd told me herself she was in the wrong to try and parent me so soon, and here we were again. I hardly knew her. No, I didn't know her at all.

"Sit down."

"No, this is bullshit."

"I'm being plenty reasonable," she said, leaning forward like she might spring off the couch at any second. "Your father was gonna do much worse, and you'd sorely deserve it for all these lies you've told, but I'm being more than fair."

"It's still bullshit." I clenched my fists at my side. _Don't slap her, don't slap her. Please God, don't slap her. _Why was I even considering slapping her? Why was that urge there and stronger than ever when it was the last thing I should be thinking about?

"Julia, sit down," she said, voice tightening into a yell.

"No."

"Now."

"Go to hell." I attempted to walk away.

She jumped to her feet and grabbed my arm. "That's another week for you. It was one, but now it's two, and if you talk to me like that again, we can make it an entire mouth."

Somehow I didn't believe it. How was she gonna enforce that when she was working most of the time? Besides, all the time she was home she spent arguing with my father.

"Now I'm not tryin' to be mean here," she said calmly. "Please sit down so we can talk about this."

A hundred of emotions swarmed through me, and I crumbled under the stress. I was on the verge of breaking, but no, I wouldn't this time. I couldn't. Carol was nice, but she didn't need to be a part of my life. The sooner she realized that the better. I shook my head and walked away again.

Her cheeks reddened, and her breathing picked up to the point you could see her shoulders rise and fall. She was losing patience and losing it fast. "You have to the count of three to sit down."

"Or what?"

She didn't answer in favor of counting. That was it for me. She couldn't treat me like a child and count the way she did when she wanted Shannon to sit down and listen for her.

I reached out and slapped her across the face before she ever reached three.

As soon as my hand collapsed to my side, I regretted it, and it wasn't because Dad charged back into the room and whipped the daylights out of me with his belt. It was because that one slap had set forth an awful chain of events.

Carol tried to stop him unsuccessfully. He carried on until he was through, scolding at me for daring to slap her even as he was striking me twice as hard himself. I swore it was the hardest he'd ever hit me too. I bit down on my lip so hard it bled, unable to think straight or make out the words he was hurling at me, so I just devoted what little concentration I had to being angry and hating him as much as I could. It was how I got through it.

"For fuck sakes, Charlie," Carol shrieked at him through tears louder and more pronounced than mine.

I'd never heard her cuss like that. Never. Granted, I didn't know her that well, but it made the entire mess seem that much more serious.

I heard crying from my room too. The commotion had escalated far enough we finally woke Shannon, but for all I knew, she could've been awake the entire time. I hoped not, but we'd been plenty loud.

I pulled myself up and slunk away to our room, unnoticed by Carol and Dad, who were bickering again.

I collapsed onto my bed and shoved my head into my pillow. Shannon crawled out of her bed and into mine. "What's happening?" She rubbed her tiny hand up and down my back. "Why're they so mad?"

"I dunno," I lied and pulled her into a hug as best I could from the position I was in. I couldn't sit up. My behind and backs of my thighs still stung too bad, and I wished she weren't here. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I'd have rather be alone—unless Steve was here. I wanted Steve.

I took a deep breath and found some solace in hoping he'd be home tonight. I didn't allow myself to think he wouldn't be. He _would_ be.

"Will he hurt my mom?" Shannon's body shook against mine she was so afraid, and I felt helpless to console her because I was just as terrified myself.

I shook my head, even though I didn't know. I didn't think Dad would, but what if he did? I remembered him telling me how he'd shoved Jack's mom, but maybe he'd bent the truth. Maybe that fight was worse than he made it sound.

Fortunately it was just words as far as I could tell. When it died down, I told Shannon to stay put and stepped out of the room to investigate.

Carol was seated on the couch, still crying, and Dad was beside her, trying to comfort her. "I screwed up, honey. I know I went a little overboard, but she shouldn't slap you or cuss at you like that. She shouldn't lie to me either, but you're right, I went a little overboard."

"It ain't just that," Carol said. "It's everything. Every-goddamned-thing around here it's just … it's gone to shit, and you don't even see it."

Shannon popped out the door, and Carol noticed us. "Go to bed, girls."

"Go to bed," Dad repeated.

"Is he hurting you hurting, Mommy?" Shannon asked.

"No, honey," Carol tried to assure her. "We're fine now. Just go to bed."

Shannon walked closer to them cautiously. Dad scooped her up, set her on his lap, and kissed her forehead. She screamed and flinched away, reaching for Carol who immediately pulled her away from Dad and cradled her in her arms.

Dad looked at me. He didn't say anything, but he looked sorry and sincere. Still, I didn't trust it enough to come forward when he motioned me over to him. I didn't even feel bad for him when Carol moved herself and Shannon to the armchair and left him on the couch alone.

There was a long silence. I stared on from a distance, refusing to move no matter how much Dad's looks pleaded with me. He was in tears too. Everyone was in damn tears.

"We'll be staying at my cousin's for a few days," Carol spoke finally, tightening her hold around Shannon. "Starting tonight."

It seemed like a split second decision, but the look in her eyes told me she meant it. She set Shannon to her feet and told her to grab what she wanted from our room.

"You really need to do that?" Dad asked, bordering on a yell.

"I do," she said firmly.

"C'mon, you don't have to do this," he coaxed. "So we had a little fight, but we're good now."

"She's terrified of you and your temper," Carol hissed under her breath, clearly referring to Shannon. "This is the last thing she needs after everything."

"I've never laid a hand on her."

"That ain't the point," she accused. "You don't think it bothers her to see you lash out at Steve and Julia? God, you're just as bad as he was in your own right."

"Hey, that ain't fair," I cut in, unsure why I was defending him after everything. "He's not _that _bad. He'd never do anything _that _bad."

Carol got up without bothering to respond and went to grab a few of her things.

Dad protested further, but she wouldn't hear him out. She just kept insisting Shannon didn't need to be around this, and within ten minutes, she had a small bag packed. This was happening. The ball was already rolling into divorce. It was temporary for now, but temporary was the first stop to the bitter ending.

Carol approached me before she moved to the door. "You can come with me if you want," she offered, hugging me to her. "It's only for a couple days, and I'm sure she wouldn't mind."

That was when Dad lost it again. "No, you go ahead and go to your cousin's or whatever the hell you think you need to, but you ain't takin' my daughter with you."

"Shannon's your daughter too, and I'm takin' her no matter what Julia decides."

Dad tried to defend himself against the biting remark—tried to explain he meant me but of course he still considered Shannon his daughter—but all it did was made him look worse.

"We're going," Carol said.

I stepped forward, thinking maybe I could say something to convince her to stay. It was unrealistic, of course, and a noise at the door startled me before I got a chance to. I whipped my head around to see Steve and Soda had stepped in. They joking about something the two of them mutually understood until Steve noticed the tension and elbowed Soda to quit laughing.

I stared at him, blinking hard and sniffling. Within seconds, I fell apart within seconds despite desperately trying to keep it together and rushed up to him.

"Woah, what's goin' on, kid?"

I only shrugged and wrapped arms around his waist.

"What the hell'd you do, Charlie?"

"Why's everything gotta be my fault?" Dad demanded right back.

"Because it always is," Steve said. "I see Carol's packed herself a bag, and Julia here is shaking she's so distraught, so obviously you did somethin'."

"Let's go, honey," Carol whispered to Shannon. She mingled her way past us and paused in front of the door to ask me once again if I wanted to come along.

I knew for sure I didn't want to now that Steve was here, but my voice was caught in the back of my throat, and all I could do was hold on to my brother tighter.

"Hell no," Steve said. "Don't you even dare consider it."

Carol didn't argue and slipped out the door.

Was that it? Would this be the last time I'd see her _or_ my sister? It all felt surreal, and the uncertainty was the worst. Everything in the past told me it was over, and I should forget I ever knew them, but something told me it wasn't. I hoped whatever it was was right.

Steve started pushing me off him. Afraid he'd knock Dad unconscious, I fought back as best I could, gripping his shirt tighter, but he was bound and determined to charge at our father. "What the hell did you fucking do this time, huh? How'd you screw it up?"

"Nothin'," Dad somehow had the nerve to say. "She's just as crazy as the rest."

"Bullshit, what'd you do?"

"Nothin', I swear, an' if you keep makin' a big deal out of this, you best find yourself someplace else to sleep."

"Steve," Soda said, warning him not to accelerate this any further.

"Let's just go," I said.

"No one's goin' anywhere 'cept for your friend." Dad glared at Steve and then at Soda. "He ain't got no business bein' here."

Steve grabbed the collar of Dad's shirt and shoved him against the nearest wall. Any minute now one of them was going to slug the other.

"C'mon, man, it ain't worth it," Soda tried again, but Steve never was good at listening to people. Not even his best friend.

"Please," I begged him.

"Hey, let's go for a walk or somethin'," Soda whispered to me when it was clear neither of us could deescalate this.

As Soda pulled me away, I saw Steve throw the first punch out of the corner of my eye.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"You alright?" Soda asked as he shut the door behind us.

Damn his sincerity. I wiped the remaining wetness from my eyes and nodded.

He turned to me and rested a hand on my shoulder. "You sure?"

I thought I might die of embarrassment. It was obvious I was far from alright, but I couldn't just say that, so I nodded again and prayed he wouldn't ask again.

"C'mon, let's split." Soda tugged on my sweater sleeve. "You know they're only gonna get louder. We'll just head to my place since that's where Steve'll end up anyway."

I peered back at the window. The curtains were drawn, so I couldn't see a thing and only heard their hollering. Steve's voice came through the strongest and hit me the hardest. I didn't know what he was saying, but his tone sounded cruel.

"C'mon, I don't wanna hear it anymore than you do." Soda's voice made me jump. He tugged on my sleeve again and motioned for me to start walking.

"I hate fighting unless I'm the one doin' it," he said, which I wasn't sure made sense, but I didn't bother pointing it out.

We walked in silence for many steps. Him, glancing at me every now and then like he had something to say, and me, hoping he'd remain quiet. He looked concerned, like he knew something big had just gone down, and of course, being himself, he couldn't stand the quiet longer than a minute. "Man, Steve sure ticks me off sometimes."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I can't even feel bad for him when he does stuff like this."

"Really?" I sounded like an idiot repeating myself, but Soda never talked about Steve like this. It was always _he means well, he means well_ whenever anyone complained about him, so it was unexpected and strange.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, your dad's no saint by a longshot," Soda said, speaking louder and faster as though he was afraid he'd offended me. "But it's almost like he's bringin' the wrath on himself, you know? Just jumping on him without even hearing the whole story first. Heck, I dunno what I'm sayin'. I don't even know what happened, but you get what I mean, don't ya?"

"Yeah, I do." I knew exactly what he meant, and it was the same reason I was mad at my father. Whenever they lashed out, it was never for nothing, but nine times out of ten, the outburst was harsher than it needed to be. Well, nine times out of ten for my father. Steve was getting better about controlling his temper, but he still had his moments.

"Good, I'm makin' a little sense then. I ain't sure what it is, really, but you catch my drift."

"It's goddamn shitty is what it is."

Soda's eyebrows shot up, same as Pony's had when I'd last cursed in front of him. Glory, their mother must've hated swearing or something... Steve said something about that once, and it sounded like he was a repeat offender.

"Jeez, I can see what your brother meant when he told me you got a mouth on you. Awfully big words for a girl your age."

His words sent blood rushing to my cheeks, and I averted my eyes to the concrete sidewalk. It was _Steve's _fault. And Angela's. And my father's. And Aunt Rita's since her prim and proper ways only made me want to do it more. It was the way he said it, though, that got to me; for a _girl_ your age. Why it should matter how old you were or whether or not you were a boy? The only people who bothered to reprimand me for it anymore were my teachers. Even Steve had given up lately. Besides, there were no other words to describe the situation. Shitty summed it up, so I wouldn't apologize for it.

When I looked up, I found Soda smiling at me; he was amused, not offended. Unfortunately, the relief only heightened my embarrassment. It was mortifying, making an ass of myself in front of my brother's best looking friend.

"Don't think it matters to Steve no more what my dad says or does," I blurted out in an attempt to save face. "He'll take any little excuse to punch, and then Dad kicks him out…" I trailed off, my voice becoming very small. "Well, you know the rest."

"Yeah, I do." Soda patted my shoulder, an air of unease about him. "An' it blows it has to happen so much."

"Tell me about it," I mumbled.

"And to think I was gonna spend the night at your place."

"You screwed in the head?" I asked him. "The hell would you wanna do that for when it's a goddamned shitstorm every day of the week?"

"Again, awfully big words for such a little girl."

His smirk told me he was teasing, but I scowled anyway. "Why the hell would you wanna stay at my house? I mean, not that you ain't welcome or anything, but _why_?"

"Darry's in an awful mood tonight."

"Shit, he didn't kick you out, did he?"

"Heck no." Soda shook his head vigorously, horrified I'd even suggest it. "Darry'd never do anything like that. I just decided I didn't wanna be there, and it ain't even that big of a deal. What happened, I mean. Stupid argument is all, and I just figured I oughta give myself time to cool off before I said something I'd regret."

"Wow, I guess you guys don't get along as famously as Steve makes it sound," I said and cringed at the way it came out. I sounded jealous, and truthfully, I was. "Well, I thought you did at least. He says Pony gives Darry hell sometimes."

"Yeah, I swear half of the time me and Darry are fightin' it's 'cause he and Pony were fightin' first." He remained collected, but I heard a sharp edge to his tone that told me it bothered him. "Always thinkin' I'm tryin' to stick up for Pony if I dare suggest he's bein' the slightest bit hard on him."

"Darry sounds kind of scary."

Soda burst into laughter. "Well, don't let his muscles fool you."

"Not _just_ that." It was just that; he was a giant.

Soda laughed harder.

"I dunno, he just seems intense."

"Yeah, it's those muscles, I tell ya, but he's got a bigger heart underneath that than anyone else I know," he said with certainty. "So what happened before Steve and me showed up?"

He looked so genuine I caved. Even on the not so pleasant details. I hadn't wanted to, but Soda was a lot easier to talk to than I expected him to be.

"Well, you shouldn't feel too bad," he said. "That just sounds like something where everyone meant well, but everything went wrong, you know? Can't blame yourself for everything just 'cause you did one thing. It's like when Darry hit Pony and he ran away from home. I'm sure Steve's told you about that. It didn't all happen 'cause Darry hit him, but Darry sure felt like it for a long time."

"Yeah, but I dunno. I'm just pissed at myself, 'cause I was finally starting to like her, and maybe she won't even be my step mom no more."

"You never know," Soda pointed out. "Hope it works out. She seems like a nice lady from what Steve's said about her. If I didn't know any better I'd say he actually likes her. Better than Rosie for sure."

"Yeah, she's not so bad. I mean—"

"Stay here," Soda told me and jumped ahead at two guys who'd just crossed our path. One of them looked familiar, but I didn't recognize the other. Whoever they were, they looked my brother's age, but they sure dressed a lot fancier than he or Soda ever did. Their t-shirts weren't wrinkled and their jeans weren't worn down to rags.

"I thought we told you to get lost," Soda hissed and shoved the first one he could get his hands on. "The hell you doin' walkin' around these parts? Don't you got anything better to do, or are you lookin' for a second black eye to match the one Steve already gave ya?"

"Woah, y'all get in a fight?" I asked, but no one answered.

The guy shoved Soda back. "I could take you down easily if you hadn't teamed up on me. You call that a fair fight?"

"You call it fair to insult a dead man when he ain't even around get his revenge?"

So they'd said something about Dallas or Johnny. Probably Dallas.

"Damn it, Alan, can't you see this is what he wants?" his friend interrupted. "Pointless fighting with him. He's always looking for a reason, so let's book it before you give him one."

"Randy and I'll teach you a lesson," Alan said, despite Randy's wishes. _Randy_. That was the familiar one. He'd given me a ride home several months ago at the party where that Larry guy tried to … well, at least it was over now.

Randy cleared his throat, pointed to me, and shook his head, as if to say, _We're not doin' this in front of a kid. _Or maybe they thought I was a lady. Likely not, but I could hope. It'd be less embarrassing.

"Soda, let's just keep on walking." I stepped forward, shivering. "It's late."

"This your girl, Curtis?" Alan jeered, nodding at me. "Didn't see her standing there."

Randy punched him, but he kept on. "Boy, she looks about ten. You find her in a daycare?"

"I already got a girlfriend, and it sure as hell ain't her," Soda said. "She's my buddy's little sis, and I ain't sick in the head."

"Well, excuse me, but it seems a little suspicious," Alan drawled on. "Y'all walking alone in the middle of the night."

"He was just bein' nice," I piped up, but it didn't matter. They didn't know the whole story, and I guess it _would_ look that way, which was unfortunate because there was no way Soda thought anything of me.

Soda responded to the rest of the taunts with his fists, pummeling Alan straight to the ground, and within a minute, Pony had popped out of nowhere and joined the fight. I hadn't noticed how close we were to their house until now. I could've escaped inside, but I didn't feel like sticking around; not when the aggression reminded me of what was happening at home. My thoughts jumped to extremes. Steve knocking Dad unconscious again… Dad knocking him unconscious… I had to get there and I had to get there now.

I ran as fast as I could for nothing.

The fight was over. Aside from a red mark on Dad's cheek, they didn't look all that roughed up. Tension lingered, though. They were seated on opposite ends of the couch, Steve with his arms crossed and Dad hiding his eyes with his hand.

"You're home." Dad retracted his hand from his face and nodded at me. "Thought you ran off to your friend's or somethin'. Angela's or somewhere." He glanced away. "Never mind, you're home."

Steve uncrossed his arms and patted the space on the couch next to him. I walked over to him and sat down immediately.

"You okay?" he whispered more forcefully than Soda had asked me the same question. It seemed like he wanted to use my not being okay as a springboard to have at Dad again, so I hesitated. The only thing he did, though, was pull me closer to him.

The hug was probably to spite Dad in some way, but it was such a relief I didn't care. I leaned against his shoulder and tried not to think about Carol or Shannon or anything that had happened in the past hour.

Dad touched my back. I jumped and flipped around to find him holding his arms out to me. It was another attempt at an apology, but I couldn't bring myself to give in no matter how sorry or sad he looked.

"You expect her to run to you with open arms after the way you lashed out at her?" Steve glared at Dad. "You gotta be fucking kidding me."

"I already told you I was only punishing her for slapping Carol and lyin' to me," Dad mumbled back, making it clear he knew he his argument was poor. "Maybe I took it a little too far, but it's not like I beat her senselessly. It was just a spanking, really, and you can't say she didn't deserve one."

"Yeah, I'm sure, Charlie," Steve scoffed. "Just like it was every time you ever laid a hand on me. C'mon, Jule, let's get outa here."

"Steve," Dad started, unable to look him in the eye, which was very telling.

"Save it." Steve helped me off the couch, eying Dad as he did. "See you later, I guess."

"Hey, I'm sorry." Dad wiped a tear away from his cheek. "I just thought it'd be a chance to start over. Marrying Carol, you know, and I screwed it up."

"Again, and for the last time," Steve told him. "How 'bout you do us all a favor and don't even bother apologizing?"

"Steve," I sighed.

"What, you wanna defend him?" Steve started walking for the door. "Go right ahead and stay here then. Listen to the bullshit excuses all night if that's what you wanna do."

"Wait, don't go." I grabbed onto his arm, panicking, even though I doubted he'd leave without me.

"Yeah, you did no wrong," Steve snapped. "Funny she's afraid to be left alone with you then, huh?"

I thought about saying something to Dad as we left, but no words came to me.

xxxx

Steve parked the car in front of the Curtis's and stopped me when I moved to open the door.

I stared at him, confused. "Well, aren't we gonna head inside?"

"Yeah, but I wanna talk to you for a second first."

"About what," I asked.

"A few things."

"Like what?"

He scratched the back of his head. "When Dad belted you, it wasn't too bad, was it?"

I didn't know what to tell him. I could still feel the effects and probably would all night, but once again, it seemed like a trap were Stev would use the information against Dad later.

"Julia," Steve snapped a few seconds later.

I looked down, afraid I'd burst into tears, but yet, I couldn't have cried if I wanted to. The tears were boarded up inside me, making my stomach uneasy. "I dunno," I finally told him.

"I just wanna know if he was lyin' or not, I guess. I mean, you _did_ slap Carol. He didn't make that up, did he?"

"Wish he had," I muttered.

"Yeah, I'll bet." He scooted closer to me and ran a hand up and down my back. "I'd have probably some something similar if I was in your shoes, so I can't really blame ya, even though I wish you hadn't."

I swallowed and nodded.

"Why're you shaking, Jule? You afraid of me too?"

I shook my head.

"I ain't mad at you, okay?" he assured me. "Real hacked at him, but I ain't mad at you at all. It's him I don't believe. Fairly obvious he lost it on you pretty damn bad from the way you been acting, and I wish I could've been there to stop it, Jule. I really do."

I nodded, wishing he'd have been there too.

He opened the car door on his side and motioned for me to do the same. "C'mon, let's head inside before it's so late we wake 'em all up."

xxxx

Soda was right about Darry being in a bad mood. He was furious with Pony for staying up late on a school night and joining in on Soda's fight. Steve actually came to his defense, saying those guys had it coming to them, but Darry didn't seem to care. He decreed everyone needed to go to bed, including Soda since he had to work the next day. No one argued, and being exhausted myself, I was glad for it. I'd feared I might have to listen to Soda and Steve's laughter all night.

Unfortunately, sleep didn't come as easily as I hoped. I grew restless, despite Steve being generous enough to let me have the couch to myself. I tossed and turned for several minutes in vain until I couldn't stand it any longer. I shot up and glanced at Steve, sweat dripping down my forehead. "I can't sleep," I whined, though I was unsure what he was supposed to do about it.

At least he was wide awake, just sitting in the chair, which made me wonder if he intended to sleep there."How you gonna sleep in a chair?" I asked to which he shrugged and explained there was an extra room available to him if he wanted it, seeing as Pony and Soda still shared a room. According to his words, he rarely used it.

I wondered why until I realized it was their folks' old bedroom. Steve, however, stubbornly insisted on a different reason, and that was me. "I was just waiting for you to fall asleep first."

"Well, you don't have to do that."

"You might never sleep if I don't."

"What does it matter to you whether or not I get sleep?"

"You piss me off more when you don't sleep." He rolled his eyes at me and stood up. "And maybe, just maybe, I care about you a little, but only a little."

"I just … I can't sleep," I muttered.

"Would you sleep better if you slept on a bed?" he asked, bobbing his head towards the spare room. "'Cause I'll cut you a deal here. You promise to stay on your side and not kick me, and I'll share."

I hopped to my feet. "You sure?"

"Yeah, but you better go now before I change my mind. Already starting to regret it."

He didn't regret it one bit, though, because he'd only tricked me into giving up the couch for him. For obvious reasons, sleeping in the spare room bothered him, but he was kind enough to stay with me until I fell asleep, and that was pretty generous, considering it took me over an hour.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Tuesday, January 17th, 1967_

Steve, Soda, and Pony were bickering about their fight last night when I woke up the next morning. I lingered in the hallway, out of sight, certain they'd censor themselves if they knew I was there.

"Know what that bastard said?" Soda huffed. "Said he was gonna teach me a lesson. What kind of a dork says that? Anyway, I'm sure glad you socked him good, Pony. I was able to take on Randy then."

"I dunno, Soda," Pony said.

"I know, I know," Soda sighed. "He's a nice guy, whatever, but I'll bet it was an act. Bet he was just tryin' to make me think he was gonna concede, so I'd let my guard down, and then he'd have struck."

"You ain't got a clue what you're talkin' about," Pony told him, sounding disappointed. "Christ, Soda, I was only stepping in, 'cause that Alan was drunk, and I was scared of what he might do. I didn't want you to kick the crap out of Randy."

"Hey, I'm not sayin' I hate him," Soda quipped. "It's great he apologized for Bob an' all, but any halfways decent human being should be able to do that, so I'm sorry, but I don't think he's as great as you think he is."

"I don't think he's _great_. He's just a guy. You know, like we are."

Soda snorted. I peeked around the corner and saw Pony was about ready to punch him. Steve had an awful smirk across his lips. Pony turned to him. "C'mon, man, you know what I'm talkin' about, don't you?"

Steve rolled his eyes like he didn't care to comment.

"C'mon," Pony begged. "Tell Soda how ridiculous he's being."

Steve shook his head and grumbled, "I don't trust him."

"You don't have to trust him to agree with me," Pony insisted. "Just agree that it ain't right to beat on a guy for no good reason.

"He was just as much part of jumping Johnny as Bob, so what he says don't mean much to me," Steve said casually. "And who cares if he was unfair anyway. Like they give a shit about fair. We fight fair, an' they take cheap shots, so we might as well be just as dirty about it."

"No." I stepped forward, out of the shield of the thin wall separating me from the kitchen. "Steve, that's crazy. Randy's a nice guy."

"You eavesdropping again, you sneaky little shit?" Steve accused. "How the hell do you even know Randy anyway?"

I gulped and took a step back, wishing I'd have remained hidden.

He grabbed my arm and stared me down for an answer.

"Hey, be nice, Steve," Soda piped up.

"How do you know Randy?" Steve asked.

I glanced at Soda and Pony.

"Nevermind them," Steve hissed through his teeth. "They ain't gonna help you answer that. How do you know him?"

"He gave me a ride home once," I said and knew immediately I'd regret it.

"He gave you a ride home?" Steve repeated back to me, astounded. "When? How hell did this happen?"

"When you were fighting in that big rumble."

"I've been in lots of rumbles, kid."

"The one _that_ night," I corrected myself.

He narrowed his eyes; he knew which night I meant. "Why on Earth did you never think to tell me this before now?"

"I thought I had."

He gripped my arm tighter. "Well, I don't seem to recall it, so why don't you enlighten me here?"

I stomped my foot to the ground, narrowly missing his foot, but I should've crushed his toes, because I shouldn't have to explain _anything_. He gave me a ride home. What was so awful about that? It was a nice thing to do and nothing more. "Maybe 'cause I knew you'd react like this?" I let out a sigh in exasperation. "I was at that party with Angela. The one with Larry, remember? I ran home scared out of my mind. He found me and gave me a ride home, and I'm glad he did."

Steve reddened all over. "Sounds awfully suspicious."

"It wasn't," I said in vain. This was like talking to a wall that transformed into brick as soon as it heard the word Randy.

"Sure sounds like it."

"He just said he hoped someone would do the same for his little sister if they found her walking by her lonesome in the middle of the night."

Steve's fingers cut into my arm even more and he yelled, "He's damn near a stranger to you."

"Well, it's already over, and nothing weird happened," I yelled back. "It was just a nice thing to do, so you need to get over it."

"Steve, you need to calm down." Pony got up and approached us. "Randy ain't a bad guy. I could see him doin' something like that easily. Why you and Soda are so pigheaded about him, I just don't get it."

"Thank you, Pony," I breathed. "God, Steve, you act like he's a raging murderer."

"Maybe he ain't a raging murderer, and maybe he is a good guy sometimes, but ain't somebody you should trust ever." Soda got up too. Of course to defend Steve. "That could've ended a lot worse."

"Yeah, a _lot_ worse," I muttered under my breath. "A lot worse like he didn't give me a ride home and something worse could've happened."

Pony must've heard me because he chuckled.

Steve didn't look the slightest bit amused. He curled his lip under his teeth and clenched his free hand into a fist. "_Never _accept a ride from him or anyone else unless I tell you you can. You hear me?"

"It's already over."

"I don't care."

"Even when I'm forty?"

"From now until the rest of eternity."

"C'mon, Steve, don't you think you're overreacting?" Pony said.

"Shut up," Steve said and flipped his attention straight back to me. "Promise me."

I shook my head.

"Promise me."

"Fine, I promise," I conceded and yanked myself out of his grip, giving him a dirty look as he walked away. I was grateful for what Randy did whether he wanted me to be or not, and he and Soda were only pissy about it because they liked having reasons to kick the crap out of people.

"We better get goin' to school," Pony said, breaking the awkward silence that lingered.

I groaned, remembering it was a school day. I ran a hand through my hair and brushed off my skirt. I'd slept in what I'd worn yesterday, and I guess I'd have to wear it again.

The day was off to a horrid start.

xxxx

"You look like hell," Rachel told me at lunch, and she actually said the word hell.

"I feel like it."

"You didn't show up for me to tutor you today."

"Well, I wasn't feeling all that great, sorry." I sounded as bitchy as Angela, but Rachel was in concerned friend mode and didn't pick up on it.

"You okay?" she asked me.

"Fine."

"I'm worried about you. You've been getting wilder and wilder."

"What's it to you? This supposed to be some kind of intervention or something?"

"Well, there were those drugs in your pocket yesterday," she said quietly.

"Those are Angela's," I dismissed it immediately.

"I dunno what to believe."

"You _told_ me yesterday you did believe me." I wanted to punch her. Even more than I wanted to Carol last night.

She fell quiet, shifting around in her seat and picking at her food. Eventually she got up, telling me she'd see me in our next class together and that she hoped the rest of my day would be better. Apparently she had to go talk to a teacher about something, but I think she was just uncomfortable.

I rolled my eyes and looked at my sloppy plate of food.

Angela popped out of nowhere before I could even think about eating it.

"Jesus Christ, you scared the crap outa me."

She grinned and slipped into the spot next to me.

I flushed. She was probably going to ask me about the drugs, and it occurred to me, I no longer had them.

"Now that she's gone…" Angela said, tapping her fingernails against the table. "She'd be quite the little nark. What the hell happened to her wanting to be a Soc? Prissy Princess get tired of it?"

"You probably shouldn't call her that," I said, but only because she'd returned. "It ain't very nice."

She was staring at Angela, aghast.

"You don't like my new nickname for you?" Angela teased. "Oh, honey, it's a shame, it suits you well."

She grabbed her book off the table. "I was just coming back to get this, but I guess it's nice to what you really think about me, Angela."

Angela smirked. "Anytime."

Rachel rubbed at her eyes and hustled away. I got up to chase after her, but Angela pulled me back down into my seat. "She'll get over it."

"I dunno about that," I said. "You really have to be that much of a bitch to her?"

"I'm that much of a bitch to everybody, and she knows it." She rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Please, Julia, it ain't like I singled her out."

"That doesn't make it any better."

"Anyway," she said, drawling out the word. "I'll need to get you know what from you afterschool."

My heart rate climbed. Soon I'd be sweating. "That might be a problem."

"What? You forget 'em?" She laughed at me. "Nah, I meant I'd come get them from your house. Why would I risk doin' this in school?"

"It _still _might be a problem."

She didn't look so amused anymore.

"I don't have them anymore," I admitted, just above a whisper.

She grabbed my forearm, fingernails stabbing into my skin. "The hell do you mean you don't have them anymore? You lose them?"

"Steve found them and took them."

"Well, get it back," she said, like it was an easy solution. "He probably just hid it for his own personal use."

Maybe the grass, but he seemed uncomfortable about the pills. "I'm sorry, Angel."

"Well, that's just great," she said. "I already sold 'em. Already got the money, and now you're tellin' me I ain't got the merchandise to fork over?"

"The hell're you sellin' 'em for anyway?"

She slapped a hand over my mouth and shushed me. "For Christ's sakes, Julia, don't be so loud about it."

She retracted her hand, glaring at me.

"What're you sellin' 'em for?" I repeated, just above a whisper.

"'Cause I can," she said. "Ma leaves 'em lying around, and I can make a damn good dollar off it, so why not?"

Curly was right. She was selling them. I propped my elbows against the table and buried my face in my hands. The bell rang.

Angela clapped a hand to my back. "I'll stop by your place after school. We'll search Steve's room together."

We wouldn't do that. There was no way in hell we'd do that, but I didn't bother refusing just yet. I did stop her before she walked away, though, and asked her for something I desperately needed. Pads. Tampons. Whatever she could give me. Rachel had given me enough to get me through yesterday and this morning, but I was screwed now.

Luckily Angela came through. She was furious at me for ditching her pills, and I could tell by the way she whipped the tampons at me once she reached her locker, but she also gave me the combination and told me I could help myself to whatever I needed whenever I wanted to.

She'd forgive me eventually. I kept telling myself that.

xxxx

When I got home from school, I discovered Dad hadn't gone to work. He was lying face down on the couch, an open bottle of booze on the coffee table.

I walked up to him slowly and nudged his shoulder. When he didn't move, I feared the worst. Oh God, he was dead. I was certain of it. He drank himself to death last night because Steve and I abandoned him.

I nudged him again, harder. "Dad."

He still didn't move, so I damn near slapped him.

That got his attention. He bolted upright and grabbed my arm. "The hell'd you slap me for? You think you can slap everybody now?"

"I thought you were dead," I told him, tears streaming down my cheeks. Now that he was glaring at me, I realized I'd freaked out for nothing, but I was so relieved.

He lifted me onto the couch beside him and wrapped me into his arms. "I was just napping, sweetheart. I don't feel good today. Why would you think I was dead?"

I shrugged and hugged him back as tight as I could, even though he reeked of booze, cigarettes, and desperately needed to shower. We sat in silence for a long time, him holding me close to him and stroking my hair to comfort me.

As soon as the relief wore off, I remembered I was furious at him for the way he treated me last night and wanted to push him away, but still, I couldn't. I guess that was part of the reason I refused to hug him last night. I was afraid a small part of me would crave that hug when the rest of me wanted to resent him.

He pulled away from me, a weak smile across his lips. "I think I better go to work."

"You said you were sick."

"Yeah, but I can't miss any days, or the boss'll fire me."

I nodded. That sounded oddly responsible from him. So he hadn't skipped out on work. His shift simply starting later in the day, which didn't make much sense. Well, I guess he worked construction now, so the hours could be whenever, but I still had doubt. It was damn hard to trust him.

He kissed my forehead and got up. "Be good while I'm gone. Love you."

"Love you too," I told him and shivered in frustration he should be so kind now.

It always gave me hope that maybe he would get his act together, and then I'd be all the more disappointed when he let me down again.

xxxx

Angela showed up shortly after Dad left, and despite my pleading for her to stop, she tore through Steve's room and found what she was looking for. She looked relieved when she finally got her hands on them, and it scared me. "Why do you need them that badly?"

"I don't need them," she snipped at me. "But I sold 'em to someone who'd be furious if they didn't get what they paid for."

Then she shouldn't be around people like that, but it was pointless telling her that when there was no way she could avoid it. Her brothers had connections, and not all of them were good. Most of them were bad.

She asked me if I wanted to come with her, and it was out of pity too. Before she left, she asked me if something was wrong, and for a split second, I almost told her about everything that had happened last night. Even though I was beyond angry at her, I almost spilled everything, but I didn't. I shoved her out the door and told her something I deeply regretted.

I said that if she ever made me do something like this again, we were done being friends.

I wasn't sure if I meant it or not, but at least she didn't seem to think so. She laughed and trotted off with what she'd come for, and now I was left with the mess she'd left in Steve's room.

I straightened it up as fast as I could, shutting all the drawers of his dresser and tossing the mounds of dirty clothing into a hamper until I realized my fatal mistake. Steve never kept a clean room. It was always a mess, so this looked just as suspicious, if not more suspicious than Angela's mess. How the hell was I supposed to know what was _his_ mess and what was hers?

Shit.

I grabbed his clothes and tossed them in every which direction. He was gonna kill me for this later. No doubt about it, and if I'd been thinking, I'd have paid more attention as she was rummaging through things, but no. I just sat there, praying he wouldn't show up.

Well, now he had. Not a minute after I started reverse cleaning his room, he charged in and demanded to know what the hell I was doing.


	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I tossed the t-shirt I was about to fling across the room at Steve's feet and bolted for the door.

He stepped in front of me, making me nearly crash into him. "Sorry," I mumbled and tried to meander my way out of the room.

He caught my wrist and tugged me back. "What the hell're you doing?"

It had to be the third time he'd asked, and I felt stupid because I didn't know. Well, not now anyway, although the solution to my problems ten minutes ago was obvious. I should've told him Angela was responsible for everything. Period. Without ever setting foot in here. He'd blame her for the mess, maybe harp on me for being her friend, as always, and I wouldn't be standing here trying to ignore the dirty looks and grunts of annoyance.

He constricted his fingers around my wrist. "You deaf or something?"

"I was only in here for a second." I flashed a smile in return, despite my nerves, hoping to appease him. "I was lookin' for you actually."

"Oh really?" he said. "Sounds like a load of shit."

I inhaled and exhaled a loud sigh. Of course it was, and I knew it. I was just looking for something, anything, to get him off my back, something to derail the next great lecture of the century before it inevitably happened. "Sorry," I muttered and sunk my teeth into my lower lip, remembering how he felt about me and apologies.

"If you were really looking for me, you wouldn't be itchin' to leave so fast now, would ya?"

"C'mon, I'm sorry I was in your room. It's not like it should be a huge deal anyway, 'cause you barge into my room all the time."

"Not when you ain't there I don't. I respect your privacy."

That was debatable, but I didn't bother pointing it out. I just promised him I'd leave his stuff alone forever in hopes he'd shut up.

He didn't.

"You don't think I got a right to know _why_ you're snooping around my room?"

"Maybe…"

"Then sit your ass down and explain what the hell's goin' on."

"Okay, okay."

"And then why you're so antsy to get out of here. Jesus."

I frowned.

He glared back and pointed to his bed. "Go."

I slouched and drug my feet the entire way. "It's a long story, so I dunno if you really wanna hear it."

"Oh, you better believe I do." He was almost stepping on my heels, a mere foot behind me. "Every damn word. I got a suspicion you don't want to be true."

I rolled my eyes and sat down. It took me a long time to figure it out, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't on edge, but whenever he said anything like that, he didn't know what his threat was; he just wanted to sound intimidating.

"I'm waiting," he said, looking down at me expectantly.

"Angela wanted her pills back," I confessed in one breath.

"What?"

"Angela wanted her pills back," I said a little slower. "And I told her no, but she started looking through your stuff 'til she found them, and I didn't want you to know we were in here, so I cleaned up your room, but then I remembered you never keep your room clean, so I had to mess it up again."

He snorted and tried to hide his laughter. "You cleaned my room and messed it back up again?"

"Yeah." I looked up at him, confused. "I thought you'd be more pissed off about it."

All signs of amusement vanished, but at least he decided to sit beside me instead of towering over me. I appreciated that. "I'm plenty pissed," he assured me. "Who knows what the hell else she took? You think about that at all?"

"Just what was hers," I told him before I lost the chance to get a word in edgewise. "I watched her. I promise she didn't take anything else." I blushed at my lie. I hadn't watched her. I stood outside the room like an idiot, so she could've lifted things from him for all I knew.

He shook his head, got up, and tore through the room for evidence. "I had a pack of Camels. Right here," he announced a minute later, tapping a finger down against the dresser. "What else is gone? You _really_ watch her? What else in this story is bullshit? Most of it?All of it?" He stormed up to me and hooked a finger under my chin, forcing me to look at him. "How'm I supposed to know you didn't make this up and take the pills and my smokes for yourself, huh?"

I smacked his hand away from my face and pounced to my feet. "I don't want anything to do with those damn pills, so you can go to hell, Steve."

"You tryin' to pick a fight with me?"

"Yeah, maybe I am." I balled my fist at my sides. "I'm sorry she stole your cigarettes, but ... I don't want her goddamned pills, okay? I don't! What the hell are you tryin' to say about me?"

"Nothin' other than what's obvious."

"She took them, I swear. She wants to sell them."

"Good for her."

"How can you say that? This is awful!"

"Not surprised."

"It was her, it was _all _her."

"Yeah, I believe you," he backed down, much to my shock. "The next time I see her, I swear to Christ… Well, goddamn it, why the hell'd you agree to hide her pills in the first place? I can't for the life of me figure out why. You're her friend, whatever, but if this ain't the last straw for you, what on earth will be? God, the fact that it's not makes me wonder… Forget it."

"Makes you wonder what? That _I'm_ taking them?"

"No, not exactly."

"Well, excuse me, but it sure as hell seems like it."

"You've been acting weird lately."

"So you think I'm on something?"

"You slapped Carol."

"Can we leave that out of this?" I groaned in exasperation. "Please?"

He stared at me intensely and I swore he'd start yelling, but then he pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "Yeah, but this ain't over yet and you're not going anywhere until I say so."

I sat back down, but only because I finally realized my defensiveness was making me more and more suspicious. The last thing I needed was him thinking I was on drugs.

"For the record, I don't think you're on anything."

"Yes, you do," I said, unable to stay calm. "You've implied it at least seven times now."

"Funny I don't recall that."

"Well, that's because you're arrogant and cocky and can't admit when you're wrong."

He shook a finger in my face. "You wanna know what I really think? What I've been thing this entire damn time? I think you got it all from her and got cold feet when it came to taking it."

"Jesus, Steve, you really think I'd do that on purpose?" I grew so flustered I could barely sit still. "She shoved them in my pocket and a teacher showed up before I got the chance to give it back to her."

"I won't be that mad if you just admit it," he said. "Everything's gone to shit anyway. Why do you think I took up smoking when I was your age? I get it."

Before I could come up with an intelligent reply, I socked him in the arm as hard as I could.

He slapped my hand in return and held my fists down at my sides when I tried to retaliate more. "The hell was that for?"

"Not believing me," I screamed at him. "I'm not lying about any of this. You should know me well enough to know that."

He released my hands and stepped away from me. "Yeah."

I wasn't sure what that _yeah_ was supposed to mean. Maybe an acknowledgement I had a point, which seemed too good to be true.

"Get outa here," he told me, rubbing his forehead.

I stared at him for a second.

"Get outa here," he repeated, more bite to his tone. "You couldn't wait to leave a second ago, so just go."

"Fine."

I made a point to slam the door behind me.

xxxx

I spent the next two hours lying on my bed, trying to nap or something. I wasn't sure what. Reality felt like it was suspended. My brother thought I was on drugs. Well, not exactly, but his accusations still stung. I had _no_ desire to do _any_ of what Angela was doing.

Steve barged in at just as I was about to fall asleep and woke me up when he sat on my bed. "Hey, you know where Charlie is?"

I shielded my eyes in my pillow, blinded by the light he'd flicked on. "Work."

"He told me he didn't have to work today. Said he had today off."

"Liar," I mumbled into the pillow and pulled myself up, but I wasn't mad at him as much as myself. I'd been duped again. Looking back on it, he wasn't wearing his usual work attire. How was that not a red flag? I was doing idiotic things right and left tonight.

I frowned at Steve. "He's gonna get fired again, ain't he?"

"Forget him, Jule." Steve looked upward and sighed. "Wanted to talk to you about something else and it's probably better he ain't here."

"It's about Mom then," I said quietly and turned to him. "Isn't it?"

He stared at me, stunned. "How'd you know?"

I shrugged. "He gets mad whenever you say anything about her to me."

"Yeah, I guess he does."

The atmosphere of the room had changed fast. Everything got cold and tense, and the five seconds of silence felt like an eternity, but no amount of suspense could make what he said worse. He told me she was taking pills like Angela's, which shouldn't have been too shocking if I considered what she did to herself, but it was still a blow to hear.

"Y-you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't even know what they were, but I know a doctor gave her something after Jesse and all. The pills were supposed to make her better. That's what Charlie told me at least, but I swear on my life, it made her worse."

"Shit," I muttered under my breath.

He extended an arm around my shoulder, and we didn't say a word to each other for the longest time. Not until I worked up the courage to ask him why he told me. I had a feeling it was his explanation for his accusations, and I was right. "But Steve it ain't fair to just think I—"

"Before you say anything more, I don't think you're gonna be just like her. Not in the slightest, so don't you even suggest it."

"But, Steve—"

"It's just Angela," he droned on. "I've said it once, I've said it a million times, you're too damn young for this."

"But you _know_ it's all her. You know it."

"No shit I do. Why else do you think I hate her so damn much?"

Despite the tension, a small smirk crept across my lips. "You're gonna kill her for stealing your pack, ain't you?"

"Damn right, first chance I get," he assured me. "And I'll enjoy every minute of it. Every last goddamned minute."

"Curly might get mad," I pointed out. "He'll take any excuse to punch somebody who's done wrong by her."

He started laughing so hard he might piss himself. "So? You think I'm afraid of that? Hell, all the better. He needs to be put in his place too. Pony's been hanging around him lately, and I think Darry's gonna have a stroke."

I didn't bother pushing it further. It was like the fight with Alan. He enjoyed fighting people. Curly enjoyed it more, so what should I care if they wanted to spare off?

Steve started lecturing me about Angela more. I tried to listen to it, but it wasn't anything I hadn't heard a million times before, and the lucky bastard got his wish: Angela showed up a half hour later.

It was almost like she knew she was being talked about, but it wasn't that at all. She came to make an accusation. Apparently some of the grass was missing. Not a lot, but enough she was pissed and looking to take it out on one of us.

"I didn't touch any of it," Steve asserted, eyes narrowed.

"Why'd you take it from Julia then?"

"Why'd you take my cigarettes?"

"Reparation for my losses," she hissed, and that was just the start of the battle.

I stood back at first, figuring I should just let them have it out. That's what they both wanted anyway, but after a while it I couldn't stand it. It was worse than him duking it out with a guy because it could last forever. He wouldn't punch her, seeing as she was a girl, and there was no way they'd get tired of insulting each other.

In a hasty effort to solve the argument, I slipped away to my dad's room, remembering I'd found grass in there when I read Jack's letters. Neither of them seemed to notice I'd left they were so consumed in screaming at each other, but I caught their attention immediately when I emerged with a bag in my hand, which I suspected was Angela's. "I'll bet Charlie took it," I told them, holding it up for them to see.

Steve looked like he wanted to kill me. He motioned for me to turn out and put it back in Dad's room, but Angela got to me first and ripped it out of my hand.

She examined it closely and concluded it was hers. "Well, I'll be damned, this is it."

"How do you even know?" I asked her. I should've been more concerned that my father had raided Steve's room, but I refused to think about that for now.

"Sorry, Steve," she sneered, ignoring my question. "I'm afraid I already smoked your Camels."

He charged at her. Glory, she was lucky to be a female. He tried to grab the grass from her unsuccessfully. She stuffed it between her boobs and crossed her arms under her chest, pushing up her cleavage. "You reach for it, and I'll tell Tim you felt me up next time I visit him," she threatened. I could tell by her tone, she meant it. "He's got a few more months in the cooler," she continued. "Plenty of time of stew over what he'll do to you."

"You think he trusts your word that much?"

"An' I'll tell your girlfriend the same. Julia tells me you just got back together. Oo, wouldn't wanna complicate that now would we?"

"Just stay away from Julia," he said. "You keep her out of all your doings, you hear me? I could care less if you wanna throw your life away, but you leave her out of it."

"Fair enough," she scoffed. "If that's what Julia wants. You don't control her decisions, Steve-o."

_Steve-o_. The way she said it made me giggle.

He stepped closer to her and tried to stare her down. "I can and will when it's in her best interest. She's too naive and loyal to your friendship to see through your bullshit, but not me. I see you for exactly what you are."

She rolled her eyes and headed for the door. "See you in school tomorrow, Jule."

She flipped Steve the bird and slammed the door behind her.

Steve turned straight to me and eyed me severely. He didn't say a word. He was too angry to even speak, but I could tell what he was thinking; I'd just done something incredibly stupid.

I had. Oh God, I had. Dad would think one of us used it up.

Luckily he didn't show up for the rest of the night, but that was less of a blessing when I found out where he'd been the next day, and what he'd done.


	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Wednesday, January 18th, 1967_

Steve and I sat in silence at breakfast the next morning. He'd hardly spoken a word to me since Angela left last night, not to mention I hadn't seen him much either. First chance he got, he booked it to Soda's and told me he wouldn't be back until long after I'd gone to bed. Didn't bother yelling at me. Didn't even say a word about what I'd done. Just up and left.

It was kind of a good thing, considering I'd run out of the feminine supplies Rachel had given me. Not that Steve would notice—I wasn't itching to tell him—but I'd spent an entire hour on the toilet trying to figure out how a tampon worked because that was all I had. He would've hurled his fist against the door, demanding to know what was taking so long. I wouldn't tell him, but he'd probably assume I was experimenting with makeup or something, and then he'd tease me about it. In the end, I gave up. It was an hour waster and I resorted to using my socks as pads. It was a desperate move, but it was better than bleeding over everything, so yeah. I'd say it was damn good thing Steve hadn't come home, but it was also torture.

On top of my period debacle, I had to wonder how badly I'd pissed him off.

It was hell on Earth if anything ever had been.

"Hey, Steve, about last night," I started.

He finally acknowledged me, turning to me with a sour expression.

I exhaled and steeled myself for the backlash because the only thing worse than a loud, angry Steve was a quiet, bitter Steve. "It was stupid of me, but I just wanted to get her out of here, I guess. I knew he had stuff in there. Found it when I was reading through Jack's letters to him, and I just thought—"

"It was hers anyway."

"It was? How do you know?"

He drummed his fingers against the table and glanced away. "'Cause I gave it to him."

"You did?"

"You don't wanna know."

"Now I really wanna know."

"No, you really _don't_ wanna know."

"Do too."

Steve slammed a fist against the table and jerked his head back to me. "I don't wanna talk about this. I don't."

"But you can't just say something like that an'—"

"Sometimes you oughta just consider it a blessing when you don't know something, but I bet you've never heard that before. Ain't like I've said it a hundred thousand million times or anything."

"Some fucking blessing," I cursed under my breath, but he didn't hear it.

"For the last time, and_ officially _the last time, you don't need to know everything, and I ain't gonna tell you now no matter how much you bitch and wail about it, so shut the hell up and eat your breakfast."

"But—"

He pointed to the now mushy bowl of Rice Krispies in front of me and shook his finger. "Eat."

"How can I eat when you told me you gave Dad Angela's drugs?"

"I dunno, but like Mrs. Curtis used to tell her boys, there are starving children somewhere or something like that, so eat your goddamned Rice Krispies."

I sprang to my feet so fast I accidentally knocked the bowl off the table. "I have a right to know, damn it." I locked eyes with him, ignoring the mess. "I already know half of what he does ain't good, so newsflash for you, Steven, you're not doing me any favors not tellin' me about it. If you don't tell me, I'll just imagine worse, and right now, it already sounds horrible. Is that what you want?"

I caught my breath and glanced down at the shards of glass and gloppy mess of milk and cereal.

Steve stared at it, his hands now curled into fists.

I rushed to clean it up, feeling his eyes on my back as I did.

He didn't say a word to me until I'd finished. "Was that _really_ necessary?"

Of course it wasn't, but it was an accident, and his sarcasm was even less necessary. "You know it's true."

"Yeah, and so what? Maybe I don't wanna send you to school in tears, you know? I'm not tryin' to be a cryptic asshole or anything. You don't have to break shit."

I propped my hands on my hips and scowled, trying to look as tough as I could. "I wouldn't cry though. I'm not that much of a bawl baby anymore."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, sure."

I stomped my foot to the floor. "I'm not."

"You're acting about as mature as Shannon right now."

"Well, you're pissing me off."

"Sit down."

He pointed to my seat and didn't stop glaring at me until I'd moved.

"God, you're so bossy."

"Yeah, and you're quite the little brat when you wanna be."

"Just tell me."

He sighed and paused for a moment, staring at me like I'd seriously wronged him. "Damn you and your curiosity."

"Please, Steve."

"Alright, fine, but don't say I didn't warn you," Steve caved. "He was talkin' about crazy get rich quick schemes, 'cause he's got money problems. Has for a while now. Owes one of his friends money, and when he saw her stuff, he saw an opportunity. He knows people who'd buy."

"So you just gave it to him? Just like that?"

"It was loads better than his other ideas, and like I give a shit that it was Angela's," Steve offered up, like it was a fantastic excuse. "He really does need this money. I can't emphasize that enough, Jule. If the circumstances were different I'd tell him to go screw himself, an' you know I would, so don't you think I'm okay with this. I'm not. It's just, he's running out of options. His lies are catching up to him, and time's his enemy..." He pinched the bridge of his nose, unable to finish his thoughts. "Jesus, forget I said anything."

"So you guys basically stole it from her?"

"I was gonna replace it eventually, and did you hear a word I said? I know it's messed up, I do, but it is what is is, and I'm honestly surprised it was still there last night. Swore he'd have gotten rid of it sooner."

"God, that really is fucked up."

"Tell me about it."

"But what about the money Aunt Rita gave us?" I asked. "Why can't he just use that?"

"Oh that money?" Steve scoffed. "Gone. Every last penny gone. Didn't take 'im long to burn it up neither. Gambled it away, and all the debts he owed before, he still owes."

I massaged my temples, regretting I'd asked. "Why does he owe money to someone though? And what's he gonna do now that I foiled his plan?"

"Peter."

"But Peter's his friend, ain't he?"

Steve shrugged. "I guess."

I narrowed my eyes at him, confused. I wanted to believe him, but I could've _sworn_ Peter was his best friend. Maybe I didn't know though. I mean, I recognized the name enough to know it was one of his drinking buddies, but he never talked about any of them much. Never brought them by the house either, because whenever he went out, he wanted to forget he had children.

"Rosie's got him takin' her side in their split." Steve looked down and pressed his face into his hands. "Probably sleeping with him."

"Really?"

He let his hands slide down his face and stuffed them into his pockets. "Shit, her kid could be his for all I know, but he's got all kinds of leverage on the bastard. Enough to get him locked away if he don't make good on his promises. I mean, Charlie beat the shit out of him a couple months back. You remember that, don't you? Got arrested for it, too, but Peter didn't press any charges, so well, you do the math."

"I don't get it."

"There's nothing to get. It's real simple, Charlie's exhausted the man's sympathy, and I don't exactly blame him."

I did remember that mess, come to think of it. Angela had told me because she heard about it from Earl. It happened right after he lost his job. Right when he and Rosie were past the point of no return. Apparently Peter told her about Dad getting canned, and the rest was history, but now it seemed messier knowing what Steve had just told me. Dad probably beat the shit of him because he was paling around with Rosie, and he didn't do anything about it because he knew it was true. Not because he they were fantastic friends; they were only drinking buddies, after all. "But that happened months ago," I pointed out. My conclusions made sense, but that didn't make that much sense. There had to be more to the story.

"Yeah, and just think about everything that's happened since then."

I exhaled and tried to keep my mind clear. I didn't need to think anymore. "It just seems like everything bad in the world is happening all at once," I whined.

"It's not, just seems like that," Steve told told me. "Charlie's had these problems for years and years. They ain't anything new. What's new is I'm telling you about it, but that's what you want, right? You're always harping on me about keeping secrets, well, there ya go. That's more than you wanted to know, wasn't it?"

"It just doesn't make sense. Why cops would do something now?"

"You're gonna be late for school." Steve leapt to his feet and motioned for me to stand up. "We'll talk about this more later."

I remained seated. "No, tell me now. That's your bullshit way of getting me to shut up, 'cause you say that and then you never actually tell me."

"I will this time," he promised, looking straight at me. "I really will, but if I'm not mistaken, your principal wants to hold ya back if you miss anymore, so unless you're retarded enough to wanna repeat seventh grade, get your ass moving."

I refused to budge.

He grabbed my arm, yanked me to my feet and pushed me forward.

I shoved him back harder than he'd pushed me. "Fine," I snapped and hustled grabbed my things.

He'd better tell me later, damn it. He'd better.

xxxx

I was late and spent the majority of my fist class in the principal's office. Mr. Hanson bawled me out real good and reminded me I was supposed to come early to get tutored by Rachel.

"If you can't come in early, you can expect to stay after school," he told me for the thousandth time. "We need to catch you up if you ever expect to pass."

"But doesn't my dad have to agree to me being held back?" I asked him. "That's how it works, right? Until you get to high school and they fail you for real and stuff?"

I wasn't sure where the bravado came from or how the sudden flash of information hit me. I think it was something Angela had said. Her mother allowed her to be held back at the beginning of elementary school, but by some miracle, she'd passed every single year after that without so much as doing an ounce of work to account for it.

"I'm sure we could get your father to agree to it if we assured him it was best for you," Mr. Hanson said.

He wouldn't. I remembered that meeting from a few weeks ago and how he was more upset with them than me, but I just nodded in an effort to appease him.

"You best watch yourself, young lady," Mr. Hanson warned and dismissed me from his office.

He instructed me to sit on the bench outside his office while he talked to the secretary. I figured he was getting me a note to get back to class, but they talked for a couple minutes. _About me. _Something about how he wanted everyone in the school to crack down on my behavior. No exceptions, no excuses, he said, and I guess he told her about what I'd said to him too, because I heard her say, "If we're lucky, she won't be in her father's care by the end of the year."

It was in a hush hush tone, but it came out clear enough to be heard, and I nearly lost it. If they were trying to imply that my father would lose custody of me, they were wrong. Damn it, they were wrong. He'd done a lot of bad stuff, but he'd make sure it'd never happen, wouldn't he? God, what I wouldn't give to deck her…

The urge grew stronger when she approached me with a note in her hands and even worse when she smiled at me and told me to have a better day.

I ripped the note out of her hand and mumbled a thank you, but only because Mr. Hanson was watching.

xxxx

Angela was nowhere in sight, and even after last night, I was devastated. Why I didn't know, but I really, really, really wanted—no, _needed_—to see her, and no surprise, she didn't show up. Everyone knew she was on the fast track to dropping out and that she didn't care how much she missed. As soon as she was old enough and able to, she'd be done with school and no one could convince her otherwise. Not even me. Not even Tim.

Rachel, though, seemed to have a different idea. "Maybe she's just being short with me, 'cause I didn't let her copy my math test," she mused over lunch. "She was _so_ mad at me about that."

"She's just being pissy with you 'cause she can," I told her, trying to hide the snippiness in my tone. "She could care less about math. Honest, she's only messing with you 'cause she can. That's what she does to people."

"Who's Angela?" the unfamiliar girl next to Rachel asked.

She was new to the school. Maybe it was her first day for all I knew, but one thing was obvious: Rachel had taken it upon herself to be her best friend and show her around the school.

Sometimes I thought Rachel was fake. She _could_ genuinely be this friendly and nice, but I doubted it. She used to never be like this. Used to fight with Angela all the time and not give a crap about what other people thought, or at least it seemed like it to me. I envied her so bad, and now all she wanted was for everyone to like her. Boy, did she go to great lengths to ensure they did…

Rachel turned to me, eyebrow raised. "How would you describe Angela?"

I shrugged. "Angela is … Angela. I dunno."

"Well, she's kind of cranky sometimes and really tough," Rachel explained. "But she's not so bad _most of the time_."

"Oh, there was a girl like that at my old school."

Rachel smiled. "Where'd you used to go to school? I don't think I asked you that yet…"

The girl scrunched her nose with an expression that told me Rachel had already asked her this, and not once, but likely twice. "Springfield," she replied.

"That's the capital of Illinois, right?"

"No, Springfield, Minnesota. It's a really small town."

"Wow, y'all travelled a long way then," Rachel remarked. "Is it really as cold as they say up there?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Sometimes, but not always."

Rachel went on to ask her fifty more questions before I glared at her to shut up. She was trying to be friendly, but I could tell the girl, who I now knew was named Annika, was growing uncomfortable. She seemed bored and disinterested in the conversation, and when Rachel left to go to the bathroom, she turned to me and whispered, "Is she _always _this crazy?"

"Kinda," I told her, figuring there was no point in lying, but I did feel obligated to say something on her behalf. "She's probably just excited you're paying attention to her 'cause Angela shunned her yesterday."

"I think I'd like to meet this Angela."

"You will whether you want to or not. She's not known for being quiet."

"Neither is Rachel apparently. I mean, she really _does_ seem nice, but she's been dragging me around this whole school like I'm her adorable little puppy or something."

I smirked and tried not to laugh. "Sorry, it's just I got this picture of her doing that in my head right now."

Annika sighed loudly. "Thank god at least a few people seem normal here. Hey, what's your name again? Jill or something? Rachel's probably told me at least a hundred times, but I quit paying attention to her hours ago."

"Julia."

"Oh, right, _Julia_," she said. "By the way, my name is pronounced _Ann_ika. You know, like the name Anne? Rachel keeps saying it wrong. It's kind of a weird name, and maybe it's just her accent or something, but sheesh."

"Don't worry, I know people with much weirder names. Try being named Ponyboy or Sodapop."

"Is there really someone named Ponyboy?" she asked, rubbing her forehead. "Shit, I thought my brother was just teasing me about how different it is here when he said he met someone named Ponyboy. No offense, it's just really different from where I'm from."

I smiled and nodded. "Yeah, at least your name's a character in Pippi Longstocking."

"Don't remind me," she said. "I've heard that before."

"What have you heard before?" Rachel asked, sliding back into her seat.

"Oh, nothing," Annika said and turned to me with a smirk.

I grinned back and tried to hide my excitement. I could see myself becoming great friends with this girl, but I wasn't sure Rachel stood a chance.


	20. Chapter 20

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

I knew I was supposed to stay after school and let Rachel tutor me, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It stung my pride too much, but more importantly, it elevated her ego, so as soon as the bell sounded, I bolted out of the building before I could be seen and rushed home, crossing my fingers Steve would be there. He'd promised he'd tell me more about Dad's predicament, and I wasn't about to let him forget it.

There was a car in the driveway when I got there, but it wasn't Steve's or Dad's; it was Carol's.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see her; it was just that this was going to be awkward. Very, _very_ awkward.

I took a deep breath and tried to slip inside unnoticed. "I missed you," Shannon said, like it'd been a lifetime since I'd last seen her when it had only been a couple days. She practically crashed into me to give me a hug.

"But don't ever hit Mom again!" She pulled away and smacked my forearm.

"Shannon," Carol scolded. "Apologize to your sister."

"But she did hit you," Shannon insisted. "That's what you said to your cousin. I heard you."

Carol gave her a look that told me Shannon wasn't supposed to hear that conversation.

Shannon rolled her eyes and threw her arms around me again. "You're my favorite sister."

I hugged her back and told her she was my favorite sister too. She was also my only sister, but it made her beam and she refused to let go of me when Carol asked to talk to me alone. I had to pry her off me, but she eventually complied when I agreed to play dolls with her later.

Carol led me to my room and shut the door behind us. I panicked for a second, figuring she was going to yell at me or something, but then I remembered that wasn't her style and relaxed.

"Um, I probably owe you another apology." I rubbed the back of my neck and looked down at my feet.

I owed her ten thousand apologies, and I wasn't even certain I'd delivered the first one.

"I think I owe you an apology too," she said earnestly, stepping closer to me. "I promised you I'd back off, and then I didn't. No wonder you were so put off by it."

That was true, but I could see why it was hard for her, as much as I hated to admit it. When she left Dad to handle everything, one of two things happened: nothing or disaster. And, regardless of anything else, she didn't deserve to be slapped like that.

She walked the rest of the way over to me and touched my shoulder. "I think we oughta just start over. All of us. Your father too."

I bit my lip and thought about it. I liked the idea, but any woman who'd given him a second chance wound up disappointed. Dad would love the idea. After all, he was the king of requesting do-overs. I nodded hesitantly.

"I'm glad you agree," she said and hugged me.

I tensed up but didn't push her away.

When she let go, I was relieved and hoped it meant our conversation was over. Unfortunately, it wasn't and shifted into uncomfortable territory.

"Listen, I don't mean to embarrass you, but I couldn't help but notice there were some blood stains in your clothes when I started laundry a half hour ago," she said. "If you need anything, I can get it for you when I run to the store later."

I blushed a deep shade of red and shook my head.

"Oh, please don't get embarrassed by it. It's just I know it's something we girls need to take care of every month, and your brother and father certainly will never understand that."

Well, that was obvious, but it didn't ease my discomfort in the slightest. The fact that she mentioned the blood was mortifying. Especially since it meant she'd ventured into my room in search of my laundry. I stashed the evidence in my hamper and vowed I wouldn't do that laundry until Dad and Steve were both gone for an extended length of time. "I couldn't figure out how to use a tampon," I confessed, but only because I didn't want her to think I was weird for using my socks as makeshift pads. "My friend gave me some, and I just … I guess I'm stupid, but I couldn't figure it out."

"I didn't figure out how to use them until I was eighteen," Carol told me kindly. "I promise you're not stupid. They scared me too much to even try, so don't feel bad."

"But this is awkward," I grumbled.

"Maybe a little," she agreed. "But we're both girls, and we women look out for each other when it's our time of the month. Even the bitchiest of ladies would lend you a pad if you really needed it."

I looked up at her, confused.

"It's true," she assured me. "It's in the unwritten code of being female."

I wasn't sure I believed it, but then again Mr. Hanson's secretary, the same one who'd badmouthed my father today, had gone out of her way to clear my record the very second Rachel informed her of… well, _that._

I took Carol up on her offer. It was better than my current solution, and there was no way I'd work up the courage to ask Steve for the money. Once was enough. He was probably still traumatized by it.

xxxx

Dad showed up just as Carol had seated me and Shannon for supper.

"Where were you last night?" I asked him.

"Work."

"You were gone all night."

"I went out afterwards for a few drinks," he said quickly, like he'd rehearsed his excuses. "Had a little too much and figured I oughta not drive."

He was looking at Carol as he said it. It was a lie. He hadn't gone to work, and besides, he laughed at people who thought you shouldn't drive when you were drunk.

I let him lie though, but only because I wanted to keep the peace between him and Carol. I guess, I was happier about her return than I was willing to admit.

"You still shouldn't stay out so late," Carol chided, getting up from the table.

"I know, babe." Dad walked up to her and wrapped his arms around her waist. "I won't anymore, I promise."

He leaned in to kiss her, and I glanced away.

Shannon was making gag noises and mocked sticking her finger down her throat.

I giggled at her and started eating the meal Carol had prepared. Chicken and a baked potato. Bland and simple, but still better than the stale piece of toast I ate last night. Things were looking up. When Dad and Carol sat down, I could tell by the way they looked at each other, they'd reconciled for the time being. Maybe she really _did _love him. There was no reason why she should give him a second chance—hell, there was no reason he'd deserved the first chance—but at least they seemed happy.

I groaned inwardly, knowing it was all fake. Every last ounce of it. Dad was orchestrating something that'd eventually split them up for good. Steve would tell me what later, and the worst part was I'd have to keep quiet about it.

Of course, the right thing to do would be to tell Carol about it and give her a chance to get out of the relationship before it turned as sour as the one she'd just gotten out of, but I figured it wasn't my place.

She had the opportunity to leave a couple days ago, and she didn't.

So I could only assume she wanted to be here, and though I'd never understand what would've possessed her to want to, who was I to mess with her decisions?

xxxx

I could hardly contain my nerves by the time Steve returned. He didn't get home until midnight, but I waited up on him, carefully glancing out my window every time it sounded like a car had pulled up.

"Jesus Christ," he cursed under his breath, startled by me. Of course he was anything but thrilled to see me, but despite his annoyance, he caved when I reminded him of our agreement.

"I see Carol and Shannon found their way home," he remarked. "I guess, we'll see how long that lasts."

We now sat on his bed, him half asleep and me eager to badger the information out of him. "Yeah, I was kind of surprised myself," I told him. "Now can you please tell me what you were gonna tell me this morning?"

My palms were sweaty, but I had to know, and I had to know now, or I'd surely go crazy.

He rubbed his forehead. "Can't we just sleep and talk about this in the morning?"

"You promised."

"Yeah, but I never promised when I had to tell you, did I?"

"Not exactly, but c'mon Steve."

"Alright, fine, what do you wanna know?"

"Why Dad owes Peter money."

"Didn't I already tell you that?"

I shook my head. He'd danced around the question. Said something about Rosie, something about desperately needing the money, and something about exhausting Peter's sympathies, but the biggest piece to the puzzle was still missing and that was why he owed Peter in the first place.

"It's a long story."

"I'm not tired yet."

"Well, I am."

"Then you better start talking fast."

He glared at me. "I oughta smack you upside the head and send you to bed. Why're you so giddy about this?"

"I'm not giddy," I protested, frowning at him. "I'm just nervous. I won't be able to sleep until I know, so tell me, damn it."

"Yeah, whatever, fine," he growled, lightly smacking my arm to convey his annoyance. "You know how I got caught lifting hubcaps a year or something ago? Well, let's just say he was a real hypocrite for kicking me out…"

"Yeah, but I don't see what that has to do with anything."

"He was a real _hypocrite _for kicking me out."

"So he's stolen hubcaps too?"'

Steve shook his head. "Not just hubcaps. All kinds of car parts. Peter runs a business off it. Brilliant guy. Taught me everything I know about cars."

My hands started to shake, and a shiver shot up my spine. "Peter taught you about cars?"

I was stunned he was telling me any of this. Either he was too tired to exercise could judgement or he finally felt I was mature enough to hear it, which was hopefully mark the end of him keeping secrets from me. Unlucky for me, though, it was probably the first.

"Oh yeah, pissed Charlie off something fierce how fast I caught on," Steve continued. "He says he was mad Peter was teaching me about illegal things, but I think it was jealousy. Hell, I _know_ it was jealously. He's alright at stealing a part or two, but he can't put the shit back together if his life depended on it."

I forked my fingers into my hair and sighed an exhausted sigh. "How come I never knew about this?"

"You were too busy letting Rosie spoil you to notice, I guess."

"Did _she_ know about it?"

"She encouraged it," he said and went on to explain that her brother-in-law partook in the "business". It was how she and Dad met in the first place.

I listened intently, absorbing as much information as I could, but something still didn't make sense. "But _why_ does Dad owe Peter money?" I sounded like a broken record, and it would be years before Steve answered that question at the rate we were going.

"I dunno for sure." Steve exhaled and shrugged. "I figure Peter's probably upset he flaked on him. 'Course Charlie's pissed about Rosie, but he distanced himself from them after he and Carol got back together. From my understanding, he promised Peter he'd be back after he left for Kansas among other things, but I don't think he made good on any of them. Peter lent him money for some reason or another, and now that they ain't on good terms, he's demanding he pay up."

I nodded. I guess that made sense. As much sense as any of this could make. "You think it's serious?" I asked. "Peter wouldn't try to do anything awful to him, would he?"

Steve looked at me. The unease in his eyes said everything.

"I hope not," I said just above a whisper.

Steve slung an arm around me. "Me too, kid. Lord knows he's created enough problems within our family without having to put up with that, but I dunno. I really don't."

It was anything but comforting, but I was done pestering information out of him. I'd heard enough to chew on.

xxxx

_Friday, January 20th, 1967_

Rachel was sick for two days. Two whole days, and I couldn't be happier.

It was awful of me. Glory, I'd stooped to new lows, but one, I didn't have to put up with her tutoring me, and two, I got a chance to get acquainted with the new girl without her butting in with her twenty questions. By Friday after school, we were close enough, she invited me to her house and the relief I'd made a new friend was so strong, I swore there was something wrong with me.

It was just I was used to being bossed around my Angela, and to go and meet a friend on my own, without her help, well, it felt like I'd been freed of her shackles.

It didn't take me long to decide I liked Annika either, or Annie as she told me I could call her. There was something about her I envied, but I couldn't put my finger on it. She was tough like Angela—I guess, being the only girl out of five kids, she had to be—but all the same, she and Angela were nothing alike.

We made it halfway to her house when she pulled a lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of her purse.

"You smoke?" she asked, holding them out to me.

"Not really." I wanted one, _bad_, but I'd be too embarrassed to make an ass out of myself.

"Want me to teach you?" she offered. "We'll just have to steer clear of my house while I do. My mom would lose her mind."

"She don't know you smoke?"

"Heck no," Annie said with a laugh. "She sure knows Terry and Nate smoke, but she's always bugging on me that is isn't ladylike. I'm her only daughter, and she still wants me to be her little princess."

Terry and Nate were her two of her brothers. The older two from what I gathered. She had two little brothers, too, but she hadn't said much about them.

"After we stop by my place, you should show me around town." She took a drag of her cigarette, smoking it as naturally and flawlessly as my brother or Angela would. "Show me what you people do for fun around here. Surely there's lots with how big the city is."

"Yeah, okay," I agreed, but I started panicking on the inside. I knew my way around a few places, but I was boring. The only real excitement I knew was what Angela had shown me.

"Oh, and I wanna meet this Angela. She's your friend, right?"

"Best friend, practically."

"Great, she can join us."

I nodded and went along with it. It was either an awful idea or a fantastic idea and time would only tell which.


	21. Chapter 21

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

A shiver trailed up my spine when Annika knocked on the Shepard's door. "I dunno if we should be doin' this," I said. "I got a feeling or somethin'."

"Got a feeling? What the heck is that supposed to mean?"

"Um, I don't even know."

"Didn't you say she was your best friend?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then why wouldn't she wanna spend a Friday night with you? That just doesn't make sense, Julie."

I shrugged and tried not to cringe. She'd taken to calling me Julie, and I wasn't sure if that was because she thought it was my real name or my nickname. Either way I didn't like it.

"Maybe we should just go," I suggested.

She ignored me and knocked louder.

Curly answered a second later and rolled his eyes when he saw me.

"Hey, Curly," I greeted, but he slammed the door without so much as a hi.

"What the hell was that for?" Annika muttered and glanced at me like I was supposed to be able to explain it.

I groaned and batted a fist against the door. "Jesus, Curly. Don't be so rude."

I jumped when the knob twisted and tripped forward as the door reopened.

Curly snorted and pointed to me on the ground. "Clumsy, are we?"

"Well, didn't expect you to open it so fast." I shot him a dirty look as I pulled myself up and dusted off my skirt. "Where's Angela? And why'd you slam the door on us?"

"Look, it ain't exactly a good time." His arms were folded and his brow furrowed in his finest Tim impersonation. "Come back tomorrow or something. You can have your little playdate with Angie then, but until then, do me a favor an' get lost."

He sounded desperate beneath the gruff demeanor, which told me he meant it. I decided not to pester him any further and turned to leave.

As I stepped away, Annika stepped forward. "Can't we just talk to her for a little bit?"

Curly stared at her and than at me. "Who the hell's she?"

"You could ask me yourself, you know," Annika huffed.

"Never mind. Think I'd rather not know ya."

"Excuse me?"

"Don't take it personal now, little miss." He started rummaging into his pocket for something. Probably a smoke. "It's just my little sis cycles through friends faster than she does boyfriends. Only girl she ever stays friends with is this gal right here." He pointed a cigarette at me and lit it . "You'd think there was something queer goin' on between 'em."

"Bullshit," Annika said. "I'm the new girl, and even I know that's bullshit."

He shrugged. Either he unaware of how offensive he'd been or he didn't give a shit, and the crass grin across his lips tipped me over the edge. "You know what, Curly? Go fuck yourself."

He stared at me, too stunned to comment.

I smiled on the inside and walked away, tugging on Annika's forearm for her to follow me. "Let's split."

"Wow, I have to say I'm pretty damn impressed," I heard Curly behind us, tone crisp and patronizing. "It ain't the first time I've heard that, so don't get _too_ excited, but coming from your lips, man, I tell ya …."

"Shut up, Curly."

"Angela's sure _rubbing_ off on ya, huh, Randle?"

Annika turned around, prepared to give him a piece of her mind, but I held onto her arm and kept us moving forward. "He ain't worth it," I whispered. "Trust me. He loves it when people fight with him."

She nodded like she understood, but not without gritting her teeth.

"Holy shit, I was jokin'. Can't you take a joke?"

Annika flipped him the bird, and we trudged onward.

"Guess not," he said with a chuckle.

A door slam followed.

"What a prick," Annika remarked once we were a fair distance away. "He looks familiar though. I think I saw my brother with him after school the other day."

"You probably did. He's a pretty popular guy."

"Is he?"

"Yeah, an' he ain't this much of an ass usually, I swear," I said, unsure why I felt the need to defend him after that display. "He probably wasn't lying about it bein' a bad time."

She rolled her eyes. "Or he's just got a stick up his ass."

"No, it ain't that," I said, growing increasingly annoyed with her. "Really, he's usually not like this."

"Whoa, little defensive there?"

"I'm not defensive," I replied, but the urgency with which I said it indicated otherwise.

"I think somebody's got a crush on him."

No, I just knew something wasn't right at their place. I couldn't put my finger on it, but suggesting I had a crush on him made me gag. "Ugh, that's repulsive. No way. No way in hell."

"Well, he's pretty good lookin'. Even if he's an asshole, he's damned good looking."

I stuck my tongue out at her. "Maybe _you're_ the one with the crush on him."

She smiled, not denying it. "How old is he anyway?"

"Probably fifteen or something, but you should probably stay away from him..."

"Why? I mean, I don't wanna go after him or anything, but what's so bad about him? I mean, aside that he's kind of a dick?"

"Just trust me when I say the Shepard's are kind of bad news," I told her and immediately felt appalled by how much I sounded like Steve.

"Again, bad news_ how_?"

I giggled, wondering how I was supposed to sum up the Shepard's for her or anyone who didn't know them for that matter. It was impossible. "Oh, let's see… Their older brother Tim's in the slammer. I dunno what for, but it's been a while, so probably something bad. Curly's been in the reformatory more than anyone I know, and Angela nearly had a baby."

"She what?'

My chest tightened when I caught my slip, and I bit down on my lip. "Well, I mean, she probably will if she doesn't start being careful."

"She was pregn—"

"No, that's _not _what I said, and I would know if she was or not. It's just she …" I stopped myself again. If I said she slept around, that sounded bad too.

Glory, it was all bad, and it scared me I was no longer fazed by it. Of course it was old news to me, but to Annika, it sounded awful, and I'd better put my foot in my mouth before I ousted that Angela was selling drugs too.

"C'mon I won't tell anyone if you tell me," she begged. "I'm not Chatty Cathy like Rachel, I promise."

"Forget I said anything."

"Okay" was all she said back, and it wasn't in the simple "I agree" kind of okay; rather the sarcastic kind. She might as well have told me she thought she was right and that even though we weren't talking about it anymore she wasn't willing to drop it yet. The twinkle in her eye told me she was anything but willing to dismiss it, but then again, maybe I was judging her too harshly. We were practically strangers, so what did I know?

"I kinda wanna see a movie tonight," she said a few moments of silence later.

The subject change couldn't have come soon enough. "Okay."

"What's the best theater around here?"

"The theater downtown's alright, I guess. Shit, I don't have any money though."

"That's alright. We'll just sneak in."

"I dunno." I ran my fingers through my hair. _Find your excuse, damn it, find your excuse. _

I had no excuse. The idea scared me, but it was also enthralling. "Well, alright."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure we don't get caught," she promised. "My brother taught me everything he knows. He's an expert at this kind of stuff."

"Wish I could say the same about my brother." I tried to suppress the tiny wave of jealousy surging through me. It wasn't fair. Steve wasn't willing to teach me anything because it was always "do as I say, not as I do" with him, and he'd done far worse things than sneak into movie theaters. Things like stealing car parts, which I now knew he'd learned from our father's friend turned enemy.

"Why, is he real straight-laced or somethin'?"

"Steve? Straight-laced? Hell no. He's just really bossy, and a hypocrite," I said, feeling the slightest bit guilty for calling him a hypocrite when I knew our father was the real hypocrite.

"Yeah, one of my brothers is kind of like that too." She patted my shoulder sympathetically. "When my dad left a year ago, he decided he was the man of the house or something like that. He used to be pretty cool though. Still is sometimes, but mostly just gets on my nerves."

"Is that why you moved here?" I asked and stopped myself before I pried any further.

"Yeah, my grandparents live here, and Mom wanted to be closer to them after everything."

I nodded and told her I understood. Of course I didn't understand _exactly_ what she was talking about, but I knew all about family dysfunction.

She told me more the further we walked. Her mom was pregnant and lost her job where they used to live as soon as she started to show. Annika swore it was because she'd been pregnant after her husband had left her, and the entire town thought she'd caused it by having an affair. No wonder they'd left.

"I just hope to God it's a girl this time," she whined. "I don't think I could handle another brother."

"Yeah, I'm kind of lucky I only have one. My little sister can be just as annoying though."

"I thought you said you only had one sibling."

"Nah, I have two others," I explained. "A brother I don't even know, and I've only known my little sister a month, so I guess I maybe forgot to mention them." And to think for the longest time, I thought it was only Steve. When it was all said and done, it probably would be just Steve, but that was a story for another time.

"Wow, your family's just as messed up as mine."

"Tell me about it." I beamed, proud I'd finally found a way to explain the Shepards to her. "Okay, so remember how you asked me how I knew the Shepard's were bad news?"

"Yeah."

"They're crazier than my family and yours combined," I said, without missing a beat. If that didn't make it crystal clear, nothing would. They were so messed up, they made me feel normal.

"That's impossible."

"Wait 'til you meet Angela. Might change your mind."

"You talk about them like they're notorious or something. Jeez."

"They kind of are in our neighborhood."

Tim had a reputation at least. Maybe it didn't carry throughout the entire city, but most of the people on our side knew him or knew of him, but I guess I didn't know. It was possible I imagined him bigger and badder than he really was because Angela used to think he was some kind of god. She sure made it sound like there was nothing he couldn't do and made sure everyone knew it. It was quite a contrast from all the terrible things she said now.

"I don't believe it though," Annika told me with convinction. "I mean, my brother thought the was something back home, and he really wasn't. All guys are like that. Think they're something special 'cause they can put up a good fight, and it's just stupid. I hate it when they fight. It's pointless."

She had a point, and I figured that was exactly how she and Angela were nothing alike. Angela loved fights and all the drama that came with him, and I feared the two of them would feud for eternity, but I was liking Annika more and more by the minute.

Being her friend no longer seemed as sketchy. The smoking and wanting to sneak into a movie theater was wild, but at least she didn't want to start drama.

It was about time I had a friend like that.

xxxx

We stopped by a convenience store before we hit the movie theater and stole a couple candy bars. Well, I didn't; her fingers did all the work, and I ate it, but I still felt cool. I'd walked alongside her calm and collected, compared to the nervous wreck I might've been in the past.

She lifted herself a pack of cigarettes too and shared them with me. I couldn't turn it down, even though I knew I'd embarrass myself. By the time we'd arrived at the theater I was coughing up a fit and growing more anxious about what we were about to do. So much for calm and collected.

I held my breath, wondering how the hell we would pull this off, but it was for nothing. She was right about learning from the best. Her resourcefulness was impressive. It didn't take her long to scout out a hole in the fence surrounding the area and exploit it. In no time we'd managed to slip unnoticed, but then we hit a hitch.

"May I see your tickets please?" the employee asked in a condescending manner that had me certain we'd be kicked out.

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was it. We'd be lucky if they only kicked us out. As long as they didn't make me call my dad.

"They're with me," a voice said behind me.

I turned, and there, to my shock, was Ponyboy.

"Here," he went on, flashing three ticket stubs in the man's face.

The man's eyes widened, and he stepped away. "My apologies, sir. I just thought—"

"They're with me," he said politely but firmly.

The man nodded and scurried away.

I turned to Pony as soon as I was positive he was gone. "Thanks."

He shrugged like it was nothing. "No problem. I keep my stubs from when I've bought them and no one's questioned me yet. You're lucky I happened to have three in my pocket. They're actually from a different theater. Can't sneak in as easy there, and the look the same as what they give ya here."

"Thanks so much."

"Thank your brother," he said. "He spotted you."

He pointed a few seats over, and sure enough, there was Steve. No Soda or Evie or anyone else. Just them, and why they should attend a movie together was beyond me. I guess for as much as Steve whined about him, he actually considered Pony a friend. At least enough to go to a movie with him.

"Is that your brother?" Annika asked.

"Unfortunately," I replied.

He waved me over to him

I drug my feet, but went anyway.

"So, sneaking into the movies, huh?"

I crossed my arms and tried to ignore the sarcastic bite in his voicd. "It seems like you just did the same thing."

"Yeah, I'm well aware, but I'm smart enough to have a back up plan."

God, he was smug. "Good for you."

"See, Pony here's got this all figured out, and you're damn lucky."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." I started walking away. Here came the 'I told you so's' I didn't need to hear.

He caught my wrist. "When the movie's over, I wanna talk to you, alright?"

"About what?"

"It can wait 'til then. Just want you to know you shouldn't make plans. Glad I ran into you."

I rolled my eyes. "Well, I'm not glad I ran into you."

"Who's your friend?" he asked, looking right at her.

"Annika, Steve. Steve, Annika," I sighed. "She's new here. I'm just showing her around town, and figured the drive-in's as good a place as any."

"You don't have to explain yourself," he dismissed it. "I believe you."

"Well, that's a first."

He smacked my arm and shooed me away. "Movie's about to start."

I sighed again and stepped out of the way.

"Yeah, he's bossy alright," Annika remarked.

She didn't know the half of it, and now I wouldn't be able to enjoy the movie because all I'd be able to think about was what he wanted to talk to me about.


	22. Chapter 22

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

If the movie was any good, I wouldn't have known. My mind drifted, dreaming up every possible thing Steve'd want to talk about—why he didn't, if it could wait, keep his trap shut until later, but mostly when and if he'd planned to tell me this ultra important thing_ before_ he happened to run into me. That was the part I didn't get. The coincidence left me suspicious.

I tried not to dwell on it, but by the time the film was half over, I'd already forgotten the title. At least Annika seemed bored, too, so I could be less self-conscious about my inability to pay attention.

"Hey, let's get the hell outa here," she whispered to me, bouncing her legs so fast you could hear the seat squeak. "This is stupid. There's gotta be some better way to waste our time."

Yeah, there were plenty I could name offhand and more if I took the time to think about it, but one glance at Steve was all it took to say no. I sucked in a breath, bracing myself for the backlash, and shook my head.

"Why not? It's not like we paid for it."

I mumbled something about Steve being upset.

"So?"

I picked at my nail beds to avoid looking at her. "So I'd rather not deal with that. It's the last thing I need right now."

"Please? I don't even remember how we got here."

"No."

"What's the worst thing that could happen anyway? He gets a tish mad? So what?"

I sighed, my bottom lip drooping into a pout that could rival a pissed off toddler's. She didn't get it, did she? If I got lucky, it wasn't important, and he'd only give me hell because he was older and he could, but if it was the slightest bit serious... well, I'd have to hope he was in a good mood, and it wasn't worth banking on. "I just can't, okay?" I snapped, my voice projecting louder than I intended.

I turned more than a few heads. Damn near everyone around us. The girl in front of us whipped around, put finger up to her lips, and shushed louder than I'd been.

It was then I recognized her. Marie, the very girl I'd punched months age. The urge to break her nose for real was stronger than ever; if not for my own satisfaction, to impress Annika, who was staring at her like she might punch her herself.

She glared at her until Marie turned around and ignored us.

Certain the night couldn't get any worse, I sunk my face into my hands and pretended I was invisible, but apparently I'd jinxed myself because when I looked up, Steve had occupied the vacant seat beside me.

I blinked to be sure it was him. It was.

"Hey," he offered up nonchalantly, like he wasn't trying to embarrass me.

I balled my hands into fists. "What the hell are you doing?"

He rolled his eyes to Annika and mouthed, "She bothering you?"

"Go," I mouthed right back and pointed to where Pony was sitting. Even _he_ was shaking his head at Steve.

Steve refused to move, leaning back and folding his hands behind his head to make himself comfortable.

I scrunched my forehead and glared at him.

Annika nudged my shoulder. "It's alright, I get it."

She looked at Steve as though he'd lost his mind.

He lifted his eyebrows and nodded. "Great to meet you," he said, but I could tell he didn't mean it.

"I'm so sorry," I told her.

"Don't be." She leaned forward about to get up, but held her gaze with him. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Wait." I rummaged through my purse for something to write on and a pen. If she had to leave on her own, I could at least be courteous enough to show her how to get home. "It's pretty easy if you just take these streets. Don't cut through any back alleys or nothin' and you'll be fine."

Steve peered over my shoulder as I etched out the makeshift map. "You sure she oughta take this route? I know an easier one."

I elbowed him and told him to shut up. He was only saying it to sound like a know-it-all.

I handed it to her. "Sorry again."

"Hey, I get it." Once again, she was looking directly at Steve as she said it. "_Completely_ get it."

She got up, assured me once again everything was cool, and told me to stop by her place tomorrow.

I nodded and waved goodbye as she walked away.

"Well, she's certainly interesting," Steve muttered as soon as she was gone.

I reached over and slapped him with no regard to the scene I was making. I'd already made an ass of myself, so what did it matter if I made it worse? If he'd have kept his mouth shut, I might've ignored him, but my patience was shot. Deep down I knew I was being overdramatic, but he should've known better than to do what he did. It was on purpose, too, and that made it worse.

He smirked, and I slapped him again.

The next thing I knew he'd grabbed my arm and drug me several feet away from the crowd. If I was embarrassed before, I was mortified now.

"Jesus, would it kill you to keep it down?" he said in low tone. "You tryin' to piss everyone off?"

"You're pissing me off. What the hell were you doing?"

"Forgive me for noticing, but you looked mighty upset. Like she was giving you a hard time or something and I just thought—"

"What were you gonna do about it? Punch her?

"Nah, just stand there and look intimidating." There were no regrets, no remorse. He was proud of his actions.

I jabbed a finger in his face. "You embarrassed me, you asshole."

"Watch your damn mouth," he warned, smacking my hand back down.

"Watch my damn mouth?" I stared at him incredulously. "Maybe you oughta fucking watch yours."

"Stop it." He clapped a hand over my mouth. "You're lucky as hell no one but me heard that. You wanna talk about being embarrassed, you'll be an embarrassment to yourself and girls everywhere if you don't clean up your mouth."

He glared at me a moment longer before releasing me. "I ain't fighting with you. Not here."

"You started it. If you'd have just stayed where you were instead of trying to embarrass me—"

"For your information, you're doin' a plenty fine job embarrassing yourself. You're the one who—"

"Hey, why don'tcha cool it, Steve?" I heard a voice behind us.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw who it was. For the second time, Pony was saving my ass tonight. I made a mental note to thank him later.

"C'mon, man." Pony's voice wavered a bit, but he didn't look hesitant on the outside. He stood straight with shoulders drawn back. "She'd have been fine, and now y'all are fighting for nothin'."

Steve whirled around, fists clenched like he was gearing up to take a swing. "You don't know that."

"Well, it ain't like girls get into fist fights like we do."

"You're an idiot if you think that makes it okay."

"Don't call him an idiot," I said, but I might as well have kept my mouth shut. Either he didn't hear me or was choosing to ignore me.

"I seen chicks fight, and it may not be with their fists, but it's brutal." His arms were crossed and he spoke in the worst condescending tone. "I'd take a punch over their bullshit any day, so forgive me for not wanting her to have to put up with that."

"If she's friends with Angela, surely she's used to that crap by now," Pony said, and I couldn't help but smile.

"Yeah, and maybe that's the problem. Maybe that's why I'm worried."

I swallowed. Behind my brother's frustrated exterior, I could see the sincerity in his eyes. He meant what he said. Every word. He wasn't trying to embarrass me as much as spare me of what he perceived to be a grave threat, and after all I'd been through with Angela, I guess the concern was warranted.

He bickered with Pony for a minute or two before deciding it was time we all should leave.

Pony agreed, saying the movie was crap anyway. If he thought so, it was.

"Thanks again," I mumbled to him as we walked out, trying not to be overheard. "You didn't have to stick up for me like that."

"Trust me, it's nothin'," he assured me. "I know what it's like to be bossed around, but mostly I've just wanted to let him have it, you know?"

"I can hear you," Steve said.

"I'm well aware," Pony answered.

I laughed, which only irritated Steve more. By the time we'd dropped Pony off at his house, he looked like he might explode.

"Well, I'm glad that's over," he moaned as we pulled out of the Curtis's driveway.

I looked at him funny. "What? Arguing with me?"

"No, goin' to the movies with Pony. Soda's idea. Kid thinks I hate him for some reason, so Soda says I oughta do something with him, so he knows I don't hate him. 'Course he said I oughta teach him how to drive, but that ain't ever gonna happen, so we went to a goddamned fucking movie."

Sometimes it truly amazed me how oblivious he was. No shit Pony thought he hated him; it shouldn't have come as a surprise. "Was it really that bad?"

"Shut up."

"I guess he's right," I told him. "You really do hate him, huh?"

"Why the hell would I hate him?" Steve narrowed his eyes. "He annoys the crap outa me, yeah, but I don't hate him. It ain't the same thing to find someone annoying and to hate them."

"Sure sounds like it the way you whine about him."

"You irritate me plenty too, but I don't hate you."

"But I'm you're sister," I pointed out. "You _have_ to love me. Him? He ain't your brother."

"He's like a brother to me," he asserted, every bit as whiny, but the look he gave me told me it was genuine. "An annoying, pesky little shit of a brother, but a brother nonetheless."

I rolled my eyes and pressed my hands to my forehead. "So what'd you need to talk to me about?"

The question changed the mood almost instantaneously. Steve gripped the steering wheel tighter and exhaled deep enough to be heard from a mile away.

"It's not serious, though, is it?" I asked, though it was obvious it was. "I mean you said it could wait, right? So that means—"

He held up a hand, and I clamped my mouth shut.

"Can we get home first?" he asked, but the suspense was too much for me to wait.

"Something about Dad?" I guessed.

"No."

"You?"

He shook his head.

"Me?"

Again, the answer was no.

I honored his wish and kept my trap shut. Of course I was worried, but I didn't know who or whatever the hell else it could be.

When he finally told me it was Carol, I didn't believe him.

He started by saying he wanted me to be nicer to her, and it seemed like that was the main purpose in his lecturing—quit giving her such a hard time, yada, yada—but there was something desperate about the way he spoke. "Why?"

"'Cause I don't think she's stable," he added.

"Like Rosie not stable?"

"Worse."

"Worse?" I lifted an eyebrow at him. "How could she possible be _worse_?"

He took a deep breath and told me something I'd have never guessed in a million years. I swore he was making it it sounded so crazy.

He told me she'd had a nervous breakdown a while ago and told Dad she'd tried to kill her ex husband by poisoning his coffee or something. She tried to make it look like the suicide. Instead of killing him, it rendered him next to worthless, but she was terrified he'll be well enough to tell the world what really happened.

This was apparently the reason they'd fought so much since she and Shannon moved in. All this time I'd thought it was my father just being his distant, unreliable self, but there was more to the story. At lot more, and maybe this was why Steve had been nicer to her too.

Still, it was too much. Too much to believe.

"But I thought he'd gone to prison? That's what Shannon said too," I wondered aloud. "How could she ... if he was locked away? You really think she would be able to do something like that?"

"That son of bitch hurt her daughter. I...I don't blame her, really."

"I still don't believe it."

"This is what she told Charlie," Steve said. "I'm just repeating it. She's awful scared. Hysterical, really. She wanted to come to Tulsa to get as far away from her old town as possible."

"Yeah." I guess I'd want to do the same if I were in her shoes.

"You need to stop giving her so much hell, though," Steve repeated. "I felt bad for her. I still do, but the more I think about it, the freakier it seems."

"Do you honest to God believe it?" I looked at him, still trying to wrap my head around the information. "Maybe she's just going crazy and thinks she did something when she didn't 'cause she wished she would've? I mean, he was abusive, right? Shannon's told me about the stuff he's done to her, and he probably did some awful things to her too."

His face was blank and eyes tired. "I dunno what to think. It's possible, I suppose, but who knows, really. I probably shouldn't have told ya anything for Christ's sakes, but it's been bugging me since I overheard it, and I can't tell Soda. This is the kind of thing that needs to stay in the family for now, you know?"

"Okay."

"I mean that, you better keep your trap shut."

"I will."

Even in the middle of the tense conversation, it lifted my spirits to know he was starting to trust me. He didn't see me as just a little kid anymore. I was someone he could talk to, confide in, but it was bullshit it had to be _this_.

I could only feel guilty about my pride because this news was more than I could stomach.


	23. Chapter 23

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"Hey, I think you missed the turn." I pressed my forehead against the window and sighed, my breath fogging up the glass.

I waited a moment to see if he'd turn the car around, and nope. Nothing. Not even an acknowledgment I'd spoken to him. "Steve!" I peeled myself away from the window and stared at him, hoping to make him uncomfortable. "You're still going the wrong way. Our turn was three blocks ago."

"What the hell is this?"

"What the hell is what?"

He pointed to the window and grimaced. "What kind of human are you?"

I let out a high-pitched whine and glanced the atrocity; my breath had faded, and all that remained was a smudge from my forehead and a couple fingerprints. "Really, Steve? I've seen you and your friends do grosser things." Grosser things like seeing who could burp the alphabet faster or holding someone down to fart in their face. Lots of gross boy things that made this little smudge look like nothing, but it was his car, so of course, he acted it was the end of the world.

"Someone'll have to clean that later, and by someone, I mean you."

I rolled my eyes and wiped away what was left of the smudge on my sleeve. "There. Clean."

"Hardly," he disagreed.

"Well, sorry I breathed on your precious car, but the thing is I sorta have to breathe. 'Cause that's the kind of human I am, you know, the normal, breathing kind. Unless, of course, you want me to die."

"You do it again, and we can arrange that."

"Oo, I'm real scared now. What're you gonna do to me?"

"If you know what's best for you, you won't find out."

Once again, his favorite, unoriginal threat. I wasn't sure why he expected it to scare me anymore. "That bad, huh?"

"You bet."

"And how'm I supposed to be scared if you don't tell me what you'll do?"

"Use your imagination."

"I can imagine lots of things."

"Then imagine the worst."

"What? You gonna try an' poison me like Carol tried to her husband?" As soon as the words left my lips, I knew it was a mistake.

His silence made it clearer.

"Wait, I didn't mean to say that," I said, but the damage was already unfolding.

"I should hope not. How the hell'm I supposed to trust you with this kind of information if you think it's funny?"

"Steve, I—"

"No, you shut up and listen to me for a second!"

I peered up and met his gaze. His eyes were heavy and shoulders stiff, as though what I'd said was the last straw in his shitty day. I glanced away; his disapproving tone stung as much as him sharing this information with me had shocked me.

"What the hell makes you think you can say something like that?" he continued to berate me. "You think you're funny?"

"No," I said firmly, but he chose not to hear it.

"It ain't something you can make light of, you hear?"

I nodded.

"You don't get it, do you? The second anyone figures out what she tried to do is the second her name is blown up in a newspaper, and probably Charlie's too. That mean anything to you? That we could be names on the six o'clock news?"

"I dunno about that, Steve. It seems a little—"

"Can't you see it now? Local man weds escaped attempted murderer. This is a shitstorm waiting to happen no matter how we look at it, and how can I trust you worth a damn if you're just gonna crack a joke about it?"

"But I'm glad you told me," I said, trying not to sound as let down as I felt. "Really, it means a lot."

"Of course you're glad, you little shit. You didn't have to eavesdrop on me this time, so I imagine you're just thrilled, aren't you?"

I sucked in a breath and asked him how long it'd been since he found out.

His eyebrows knitted and his lips settled into an intense scowl. "The hell does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything. It'd explain why you're so tense at least at least. You been keeping it to yourself this long?"

"I refuse to answer that. This is ridiculous."

It'd been a while then. "I mean, don't get me wrong," I forged on. "I _am_ glad you told me, but what made you decide to tell me all this now? Forgive me for saying it, but it's kinda weird. Just running into you, and you randomly deciding that—"

"You were sneaking in." He poked my arm hard to emphasize his point. "I saw you and that girl. Whatever her name is."

"Annika," I told him. "And what does that have to do with Carol?"

"Oh, I dunno," he scoffed. "Maybe, just maybe, I want you to err on the side of caution in case she's unstable, but I guess you've forgotten how to do that, haven't you?"

"Steve…" I pulled at the hems of my sleeves anxiously.

"You slapped her, for Christ's sakes. What the hell happened to you?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing," he mocked back. "Nothing, nothing, nothing. Yeah, _nothing's_ happened to you alright."

"Steve, please," I pleaded, but he was far from done.

"Never mind it took you three summers"—he flashed three fingers in my face—"to take the training wheels off your bike, and if you hadn't lost your security blanket, you'd probably still be sleeping with at night. What happened to that girl, huh? You used to bawl if someone dared raise their voice at you, and now look at you. You're…. You're—"

"Well, at least I learned how to swim." I smirked smugly, satisfied it was true. He could operate any piece of machinery with no instruction, but swimming was another story.

"This ain't about me; it's about _you_."

"I thought this was about Carol," I reminded him, matching his glare as best I could.

"It _is_ about Carol."

"Then why'd you just say it's about me? God, you need to think about what you're saying—"

"_I_ need to think about what I'm saying?"

"Can't you see Carol only did that to her ex husband 'cause of what he did to Shannon? She wouldn't do anything crazy to me. That's insane. Even you have to admit it."

He rubbed the back of his neck and nodded, a sign he knew I was right. "Yeah."

"So _yeah_," I snapped right back to further assert my small victory.

"Yeah, but better safe than sorry."

"_Better safe than sorry_," I mumbled to myself. He only said it because he couldn't think of a better comeback.

"I'm dead serious, Jule. Why play with fire?"

I balled a fist so tight my fingernails jutted into my palm and rammed it against the door not once, but repeatedly. "You're making no sense." My head throbbed, my stomach was in knots, and I couldn't think straight. I swore I'd fallen sick, but it was just nerves. Steve always knew what he was talking about, and if he didn't, he faked it with a false sense of confidence I'd give anything to have, but right now, he wasn't sure of a single word he spoke, and that alone was… Well, I didn't know what it was, but it was troubling.

"So that's it? You're gonna throw a tantrum 'cause something I said don't make sense?" he asked, raising his voice ten notches. "Well, that's awful mature, ain't it? And you have the nerve to wonder why I don't wanna tell you things."

"I'm just tryin' to make sense of what you've said," I yelled back, matching his volume.

"I heard you the first thousand times."

"Then maybe you should've thought about it and changed it." My voice had fallen to a whisper and I shielded my eyes with my hands, ashamed his words could hurt me this much when it was just a stupid argument. Me pestering him, and him snapping. We did this all the time. As his little sister, I should've been used to it by now.

"What's that supposed to mean? You're whining about making sense, and that makes_ less_ sense than anything I've said tonight."

I pulled my hands away from my face. "It means shut your goddamned mouth an' quit pickin' on me for no good reason. That's what."

He pulled the car over abruptly.

"Don't even start with me." I reached for the passenger door handle. "I'm done. I'd rather walk myself home than have you yell at me one more time."

He grabbed my sweater sleeve and yanked me away from the door. "What the hell's gotten into you?" he asked, calmer, but still outraged. "So maybe I've been a bit harsh tonight, but that doesn't mean—"

"Maybe?" I said. "_Maybe_?"

"Maybe a little, yeah."

I should've been glad for his admission, and yet I hurled my fist against the car door again.

He grabbed my wrists and held them down to my sides. "Calm down. Before you break something."

"No, you calm down. You've been yelling at ever since we left the theater."

"I think I'm pretty calm now," he said, and I frowned because I couldn't contest it. He was. I couldn't deny he was freakily calm, but it was this sudden composure that pissed me off the most.

I struggled against his grip, trying to kick him or punch him.

"You done?"

I didn't want to be. I wanted to spit in his face, but unfortunately the wave of adrenaline crashed just as fast as it hit me, and I gasped, trying to catch my breath.

"Jesus, I should've known not to tell ya, and here we are, you freaking out 'cause of it."

"Why? God, you just think I'm this fragile little kid you're gonna break if you dare say anything, don't you?"

"Julia," he warned.

"You do. Admit it."

"No, I never said that," he persisted. "I don't mean it like that either, so shut up and hear me out."

I tossed my hands up and let them crash down in my lap. "_Fine_."

"_Fine,_" he imitated. "Jeez, cut yourself some slack, kid. I mean, you're not even a teenager yet."

_Ugh, don't remind me. _I was too exhausted to argue. I scooted as far to the edge of the seat as I could and glared at him. "So that means you shouldn't tell me anything ever, right?"

He glared back. "Some things, yes."

"So pretty much everything."

"No, Christ, why do you gotta be this overdramatic?" he asked. "Charlie don't know shit when he says I'm stubborn, 'cause you're worse than us both when you wanna be."

And now I was like Charlie again. Perfect. I turned away from him, focusing all my attention on my streetlamp outside the car.

"Hey, I don't think you're fragile or whatever the hell you just said," he tried to appease me.

"Well, you certainly implied it."

"I don't mean it bad. I just think you shouldn't have to grow up so fast and you shouldn't want to either." He tapped my shoulder. "You even listening to me?"

I kept staring out the window.

"Damn it, Julia."

"Leave me alone."

"I don't think so," he said and wrapped me into a hug instead.

"Go to hell," I snarled.

It was a nice gesture, another apology for what he'd said even, but it was so unexpected, I had to hate it by default.

"You don't mean that," he said, appearing almost amused by my insult.

"I really do. You're a giant jerk to me all the time."

"You done?" he asked, every bit as condescending as the first time he'd asked. "I'll give you a few more blows here an' then maybe we can call it even."

I shrugged and gave up, resting my head against his shoulder. There were so many things I wanted to say to him, none of which nice, but I was too drained to fight. The kindness he was showing me now was more assuring than I wanted it to be.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"You sure?"

I nodded. My cheeks felt hot and heavy like I could burst into tears any second, but my eyes remained dry.

"Would you feel better if I let you punch me?"

"Ugh, you think everything should be solved by punching somebody, don't you?"

"It's easier."

"Easier how?"

"Well, if you were my brother, we could've had it out and been done with it ages ago," he explained. "And here we are, having to talk about our damn feelings, 'cause you'll pout at me for days on end if we don't."

I pushed myself away from him. "I wouldn't pout at you."

"Really? You're doing it right now," he said with a smirk.

I wasn't pouting. Maybe I was frowning a little, but I wasn't pouting. "So you're only being nice to me 'cause you don't want me to pout, but you'd really rather punch me?"

"Shit, you just wanna take everything I say the wrong way tonight, don't ya?"

"You started it," I stubbornly insisted. "You took what I said the wrong way. About Carol."

"Yeah, and I already apologized for that."

"Funny I don't seem to recall this _apology_."

"Gimme a break, will ya? This has been grating on me for a couple weeks now."

"So I was right," I couldn't resist saying. "You were keeping it to yourself."

"Yeah, and I would've kept it to myself longer if you weren't such a little rebel lately."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you slapped her the other day and, here you are, still trying to sneak into movies and whatnot. You have any idea how much they fight about you?"

"Are you trying to make me feel like shit?"

"No." He sighed and shook his head at me. "No, I just know don't want you blaming yourself for anything that happens later, and I know you will. You have a funny way of feeling guilty for things you shouldn't."

I bit my lip and nodded. It still seemed like a stretch to think she could get unstable enough to hurt us, but he was definitely thinking about it. He was thinking about a lot of things. "I _am_ glad you told me." Somehow I felt the need to repeat it. I wanted him to know. "I guess, you really meant it when you said you weren't going to keep secrets from me anymore, huh?"

"Yeah, but it's hard."

"Why?"

"Lots of reasons," he told me. "Take Rosie for example. I knew she was a whack job from day one. You don't think I wanted to tell you that?"

"I wish you would've," I said quietly.

"But you loved her, Jule. You were so happy to have another girl around, an' why should I have taken that away from you?"

"Ummm, I dunno, maybe because she was crazy?"

"Yeah, I get that. That's why I said it's hard."

I crossed my arms. I wasn't mad at him, but the situation in general had me reeling to the point I wanted to punch his car again.

"I mean, Carol here." He hesitated, shoving a hand through his hair. "She's a good person, even if this is a little crazy, and she's probably the most normal person Charlie will ever be with, but I dunno. I really don't."

"You sure that's what she said? 100% sure?"

He curled his lip under his teeth and shrugged. "It sounded like a bunch of nonsense with how upset she was."

"Then maybe you misheard?" I asked, suppressing my impatience that this could all be because he misheard something. Glory, if that was it… If that was all …

"I heard enough to get the gist of what she was saying," he voice interrupted my thoughts. He spoke with conviction too. "And it makes even more sense now that I put the pieces together. Some stuff just didn't add up."

"What stuff?"

"Why was she so eager to just pack up and leave?"

I stared at him, floored the answer wasn't as obvious to him as it was me. "She was leaving an abusive relationship. Why's that so surprising? I don't get what y—"

"Just listen. There's more." He held up a hand to silence me. "She was willing to marry Charlie on a whim. _Charlie_. Of all the losers the losers in the universe."

"But Shannon's his, so—"

"Did he tell you she sought him out?" he asked, sounding more and more desperate to prove his point. "It was her idea to get married so fast, but that ain't important. The weirdest thing is out of all the time Charlie spent up there in Kansas, he's never once heard or seen anything in the news or even town gossip about her ex going to prison. He thought maybe it'd happened long enough ago the buzz was over, but in a small town, people talk about those kinds of things for years."

I swallowed. Okay, maybe that was a little weird, but weird things happened all the time. Especially in our family. "Dad's an idiot for marrying her so fast."

"Damn right, he is," he agreed. "But she's smart. Why do you think she went after him of all people?"

"I dunno why _anyone_ would want him."

"Shannon," he said confidently. "Fastest way to get married is to have a kid with someone."

"You think she made it up though?" A shiver buzzed through me at the thought. "Maybe Shannon ain't our sister?"

"No, no way in hell," he told me firmly. "Charlie might be an idiot, but he wouldn't have married her unless he was 100% sure she was his."

I nodded, trying to absorb as much of the information I could. Steve's logic was convincing, but I wondered if he was drawing conclusions off coincidences.

"And I remember something else, too," he continued. "When we went up for Rita's funeral, she seemed so nervous when I was talking to her. If I tried to ask her anything about herself, even just the simplest of stuff, she just kept bringing it back to Charlie and how upset he was about his aunt dying."

He didn't have much to say after that, and everything grew oddly quiet for a few moments. Eventually worked up the courage and asked him to repeat what she said again. I wanted to know the exact words, even though he claimed he could barely make it out. It wasn't that I didn't trust him; I just needed to hear it for myself, so I could make my own interpretations.

"I dunno what to tell you. All I know is Charlie likes to sidestep problems and it was him I heard the most, so who knows." He kneaded his temples and exhaled slowly. "She talked about poisoning her ex and he tried to convince her she was only talking about what she wanted to do to, not what she'd done."

I clenched my fists in my lap, muscles tense from head to toe. I tried to pretend I was somewhere else, tried to pretend were weren't having this conversation because anything more and I'd pass out. I would. It wasn't nerves. Maybe I was being overdramatic, but … fuck it. My mind needed to turn off now.

Steve rested a hand on my back. "You sure you're okay?"

"I wanna go home," I whispered.

He nodded and put the car in drive.

xxxx

The ride home was quiet. When we got there, Steve boarded himself up in his room, and if I had half a mind, I'd have done the same. I could've avoided Carol then, and now I was trapped.

As she strolled up to me with a friendly grin, I thought of escape. Oh man, I wanted out of here as badly as I wanted to disengage from the conversation in the car, and here I was, my feet glued to the floor. Nothing had happened. Nothing was wrong. She was every bit as much the same person she was when I woke up today. Lies, lies, lies.

"I haven't seen you all day, Julia," she said.

_Did you all of a sudden forget I go to school or something? _I nearly snapped. I was so on edge, it was ridiculous, but I stuffed the feeling back inside me and forced a smile.

"You have a good day, honey?"

I nodded. It occurred to me nothing had changed about her. She looked the same, sounded the same. Everything about her was the same, and it only seemed unnatural because I knew about _you-know-what_, and my brain wouldn't let me forget. _This is the lady who tried to murder somebody_, a voice inside me screamed. _This is the lady who tried to kill somebody. Why are you talking to somebody like that?_ "We've, um, got a new girl at school this week."

"Oh, that's exciting. Is she nice?"

Damn her for being so genuine. "Yes."

"You okay?" She tilted my chin up and pressed a hand against my forehead. "Something wrong? You look a little white."

That was because I was nervous. _Of her_. I shouldn't be. I was the one defending her against Steve, telling him there was no way she'd ever do anything to us, so why was the fear suddenly rubbing off on me? "No, I'm fine."

"Well, you don't feel warm," she concluded. "Maybe you're just tired. It is a little late."

"I'm fine," I repeated.

"Well, alright then. There's some leftovers in the fridge if you're hungry."

Ugh, why did she have to be so … so motherly?At least she walked away and left me alone, but I couldn't make sense of this. As I trotted off to my room, I succumbed to knowing it'd keep me up all night.

"Julia!" I heard my name just as I moved to shut the door.

I turned. Dad was standing at the edge of the hallway. When our eyes met, he crooked his finger for me to follow him.

I trudged over, dragging my feet with each step.

"You think you could've bothered to tell me where you were planning on going after school?" he asked as we neared the living room.

His tone was dangerously low. I was in trouble. "Sorry."

"Sorry ain't gonna cut it." He grabbed ahold of my arm. "Every time I come home and you're nowhere to be found, it scares the shit outa me."

"It's not that late," I tried to defend myself. "Only just got dark out, and Steve brought me up with him."

"I don't care how early or late it is. I knew where he was, but I had no clue where you were. Any time you go anywhere, you tell me where you're goin'. That's all I ask." His fingers sunk deeper into my arm, and I could smell the alcohol under his breath. "Damn it, how many times is it now? How many times do I gotta bawl you out before you get it? How many times have I punished you?"

My heart thumped faster as I wracked my brain for an excuse—any excuse. "You never worry about Steve!"

"This ain't about Steve."

"Well, you kick him out on purpose," I carried on, even though I was acutely aware he'd punish me again. "How come you never think twice about that? What if he ended up sleeping on the streets? Apparently you don't give a shit about him or you wouldn't do it so—"

He slapped me hard across the face. The impact made me bite the insides of my cheeks, and I tasted blood.

He let go of my arm instantly. He looked sorry. Genuinely sorry. Maybe even sick to his stomach, but I bolted away before he had a chance to verbalize an apology.

"What the hell's goin' on?" Steve demanded as I crashed into him.

"I dunno," I mumbled. He was asking Dad, though, not me. Fists balled at his sides, he looked ready to throw a punch.

Dad grabbed his car keys and stormed out the front door without answering him.

That was it. My breaking point. When the door slammed, everything inside me shattered, and I couldn't put the pieces back together.

Steve moved like he was going to chase after him. I panicked and threw my arms around his waist, begging him not to go.

"What happened?" I heard Carol behind us.

"Charlie slapped her," Steve said.

"Oh, Julia, come here."

Steve nudged me to go. Even though Charlie was probably blocks away now, he still thought he could flag him down and beat the shit out of him.

"No," I said, holding onto him tighter.

He pried my arms off him, but kept a hand on my back as he guided me away.

Carol stepped forward.

Steve stopped her. "It's fine, I got it."

The relief he wasn't leaving was so immense I stopped crying, and I managed to compose myself so fast, it scared me.

Steve led me to his room and shut the door behind us. "You afraid of her now or something?"

I sat on his bed and pulled my knees up to my chest. "No."

"Just 'cause I told you need to be careful don't mean I think you need to be afraid of her."

"I'm not."

He looked at me skeptically.

I buried my face in my knees. "I just … I just didn't want you to leave."

"Why?"

I shrugged. It was hard to explain, and I felt childish admitting it. It was like when I was little. I'd gotten so used to seeking his comfort, he was all I had at our aunt's, that I still sought him out even when we moved back in with Dad. I didn't have that kind of trust with Carol. A simple acknowledgement from him was more consoling to me than a thousand hugs from her.

"Don't let what I said about her scare you," he said.

I lifted my head.

He peered down at me, looking deep in thought, confused.

"I just … I dunno," I struggled.

He gave me a sympathetic nod and took a seat beside me. He finally got it.

"Sorry," I mumbled, suddenly embarrassed.

He slung an arm around me and pulled me into his side. "You got nothing to be sorry for, kid."

But I was immature, and he thought so too because he kept calling me 'kid'. I gritted my teeth and I kept my thoughts to myself, certain I'd start another stupid argument if I spoke them.

"And I'm not going anywhere, so you can relax now." He sounded patronizing, horribly patronizing, but there was a certain level of solace in hearing it.

I couldn't explain it, but it put me at ease, and I felt better than I had in a long time.

xxxx

I slept soundly until I heard Dad come home. I'd made it back to my own room by then and listened carefully from my bed, terrified Steve would seize the opportunity to punch him. God, he was loud, making all kinds of noise as he stumbled in. Surely it was only a matter of time before Steve woke up, but everything fell quiet fast. I grew suspicious.

Careful not to wake Shannon, I rolled out of bed and tiptoed out the door. Dad was in his armchair, cigarette in one hand, open bottle of hard liquor in the other. His left eye was puffy, swelling into what would be one heck of a black eye. Who gave it to him, I didn't know, but at least it wasn't Steve.

"What're you doin' up? 'S two AM already," he slurred. "You oughta be sleepin'."

"I could say the same to you. Why're you up?"

"I … uh, I feel real awful I slapped you," he admitted in an unexpected apology. "An' other things.

_That's just the alcohol talking_, I dismissed it. " I can't sleep either. Haven't slept a wink." It was a lie. I'd slept fine until he came home. I wanted him to feel bad, I guess. Wanted him to think his slapping me had kept me up.

He held the bottle of whatever it was out to me. "Here."

"_Dad_." My eyes grew wide. "You can't be serious."

"It'll help you sleep." He extended it a little further. "A little whiskey won't hurt ya. People give it to their babies when they're teething all the time."

I dragged my feet over to him where he sat. "I don't want the whiskey, but I'll take a cigarette," I bartered. "Smoking helps me sleep." I was lying again. I didn't want his cigarette. Just wanted to see if he'd give me one.

He stared at me for a long painful moment and coughed out, "You smoke?"

I couldn't read the look on his face. He looked a little disappointed, but I wasn't sure.

"Sometimes."

He hesitated a while longer, but eventually dug his pack out of his back pocket for me. "Jus' one," he instructed sternly. "Don't want you getting sick or nothin'."

He handed the lone cigarette and his lighter to me. I fumbled with them for a second or two—shit, I'd forgotten how to light up—but the pressure of having his eyes on me pushed me to get it right on the first try. I put the cigarette up to my lips and took a long drag. It was strong, stronger than anything I'd smoked before, and I felt proud when I managed to exhale without coughing. I smoked it deliberately, watching him as I did. I wasn't sure what I what I was trying to accomplish, but it wasn't to impress him.

I wanted him to feel like a fuck up. I wanted him to feel guilty for being so lousy as agreeing to give me this cigarette in the first place. I wanted this so badly, and smoking the entire thing in froth of him wasn't good enough for me. When I finished it, I reached out for the pack he'd set on the end table to grab another cigarette.

I inched my hand out slowly and looked straight at him as I snatched it up, careful to let him know I was doing this on purpose.

He glared at me, but that was it. He didn't stop me when I walked away.


	24. Chapter 24

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Knowing I'd wake Shannon in my frustration, I bypassed our room and paused in front of Steve's door, debating if I should go in. He was snoring like a sputtering engine and certainly wouldn't appreciate being woken up, but here I was, trapped with no other options. Waking Shannon meant answering her billion questions about God knows what; running back to the living room meant facing Dad; and Carol… Carol was out of the question. I could hardly look her in the face let alone talk to her, so that left pressing my luck with Steve.

I took a deep breath, turned the knob carefully, and slipped inside. Hand still on the knob, I attempted to shut the door as quietly as I'd come in, but when I heard Steve rustling, I jumped and the door seemed to shut on its own—_loudly _too. It wasn't quite a slam, but at this hour, the noise carried enough it might as well have been.

Steve groaned and flipped his light on. "The fuck're you doing?"

I hesitated, the cigarette growing heavier between my shaking fingers.

"This better be good."

"It is," I assured him, praying for a flash of insight. Please, God, let the perfect excuse come to me.

"Go on then, tell me."

"I, um..."

He raised an eyebrow and whirled his hand out in front of him for me to keep going.

I bit my lip and shook my head. I had nothing, and there was no use pretending I did.

"Why the hell're you standing there looking at me like I said something stupid?" He didn't bother waiting for a reply. Eyes locked on the cigarette, he charged forward and grabbed me by the arm. "Where'd you get that?"

"What?"

He ripped it from my fingers and waved it in my face. "This."

"Charlie," I muttered.

"So you stole it?

"No, he gave it to me, so can I have it back?" I rolled my eyes, already regretting words. I shouldn't have asked him _if_ I could have it back; I should've demanded it. Never mind it wasn't mine in the first place, it was mine now, and he couldn't just swipe it from me.

He released my arm, moseyed over to his dresser, and deposited it into one of the drawers. "Does that answer your question?" he asked, tapping his hand against the wood.

"You jerk."

He grinned, too contented for his own good. "Don't walk into my room at three in the morning with a cigarette in your hands and expect good results."

"You still don't have to be a jerk," I said.

"I mean, really, what'd you expect? Was I just supposed to say 'Oh, hi, Julia, nice to see you at four AM. I see you got a cancer stick. Great, I'll grab mine and we'll smoke up together.'"

"Wait, is it three in the morning or four?" I returned the smug look, and his dissipated into rage.

"Hell if know, and it doesn't matter." He closed the distance between us and poked my shoulder sharply with his finger. "You wanna smoke, you get yourself one of those girly brands, or at least something with filters, you hear?"

I smacked his hand away. "I want the good stuff. The _strong_ stuff."

"You got no idea what you what, little sis. You only think you do, so you can act all tough."

"Gee, I wonder where I could've learned that from?" I told him, reminding him once again he was the influence behind all my fancy new habits. "And by the way you're not me. You don't know the first thing about what I want."

"Well, I do know this." He stabbed a finger at the dresser drawer. "You smoke that an' you'll be coughing all night."

"I kinda already did smoke one," I told him proudly. "Dad let me, so what do you say to that?"

"I say your fun's over, and you ain't getting it back no matter how much you beg."

"But he gave it to me," I insisted, moving towards the dresser. "It's mine, and I want it back."

Steve caught my shoulders and turned me back around. "I honestly don't give a shit how you got it. He shouldn't have given it to you in the first place."

"But—"

He silenced me with a look. He was no longer teasing; he was serious about this.

"Fine," I moaned, but somehow I was anything but disappointed. Actually, relieved for reasons I couldn't explain.

"What're you doing in here anyway?" he asked.

"It was on accident, I swear," I mumbled to the floor. "Dad woke me up, so I went to see why he was making so much noise, and I didn't wanna wake Shannon, so I went to your room, and your door just slammed on its own." Boy, it sounded like a pointless excuse the way it came out, but he didn't question it.

"Okay, okay." He put a hand on my shoulder and guided me to the edge of his bed.

"Charlie do something?" he asked as we sat down.

It wasn't what he'd done as much as what he hadn't done, and I felt like an idiot. I tried to feel more powerful than powerless, because there was something invincible in getting away with something you shouldn't get away with, but it was the other feeling that hung over me. "He offered me his whiskey when I told him I couldn't sleep," I revealed without giving it a second thought.

"He what?" Steve asked, instantly outraged.

I hugged my arms around my midsection, afraid he was looking for another reason to beat Dad's head to a pulp. "Don't worry, I said no. Told 'im I'd rather have a cigarette."

"Hardly makes up for it." He shot to his feet, muscles twitching with the urge to bolt out the door and punch Dad square in the face.

"Steve, c'mon, don't punch him. Just sit down and calm down," I said, but it was no use.

"I ain't promising you shit," he huffed and stormed out the door.

"Damn it, Steve." I chased after him.

He rushed at Dad, fists clenched and cussing up a blue streak of accusations.

Dad arose to his feet, barely able to stand, and Steve halted his outburst. Just like that, he clammed up. A thousand witnesses could've told me they'd seen it happen, and I wouldn't believe it unless I saw it myself. It had to be the black eye. It was more noticeable than it had been minutes ago.

Dad put a hand up to his face to shield his discomfort and knocked himself off balance from the sudden movement. Steve reached out and steadied him. "Go back to my room," he called back to me. "Or yours. Just go."

Dad grimaced and tried to shove Steve away, but it was clear he wasn't strong enough to do it.

I shook my head at Steve.

"Just gimme a sec, okay?"

"But Steve..."

"Go."

I strolled away and paused a safe distance away, hoping to remain unseen. It wasn't to eavesdrop either; I felt sick head to toe and needed to see Dad'd be okay.

Still balancing Dad, Steve whipped his head around and pointed down the hallway. "Now, and shut the door behind you."

I scowled and slammed it as hard as I could.

Footsteps followed. Heavy, determined footsteps. I closed my eyes and cursed myself. When the door opened, I anticipated an extremely pissed off Steve, but I opened my eyes to discover it was Carol. She stood before me in her nightgown, arms crossed neatly over her stomach. "What is it with you Randles and door slamming?"

I stared at her collarbone to avoid meeting her eyes. It jutted out of her chest, like that supermodel Twiggy's. She'd lost weight since she'd come here she was beginning to look sickly. "We all have tempers, I guess." I swallowed, anxiously awaiting her reprimands, but her voice was distant when she spoke again.

"Yeah, I see it in my daughter," she said. "That's how I know she's your father's"

The pain in her tone resonated with me. She hated that my father was also Shannon's father. The only thing he had going for him in her eyes was he wasn't the other man, and though I could try—and sorely wanted to—I could produce no words to defend him.

She trailed up to me and wrapped me into a tight embrace. I shuddered, certain I could feel every bone in her body smothering me.

"I'm so sorry," she said.

"What're you sorry for?" I asked, confused. Part of me wondered if she was talking about _the _incident. Or maybe an apology her husband was my father. Or maybe just a general apology for everything bad that had ever happened since the beginning of time.

"Oh, honey, I know it's been hard. Your father just can't seem to get it right, but I promise you, Julia, things are going to get better soon."

"You know what happened to him?" I asked her. "Tonight, I mean?"

She shook he head. "He won't tell me."

"I'm just shocked Steve ain't punching the lights outa him," I whispered.

"I'm not."

I laughed nervously. "You're not?"

"Your brother might act like he hates him, but that's only 'cause he's frustrated. He loves him. Loves him an awful lot. Almost as much as he loves you."

_Almost_, I repeated to myself. _Almost_. I guess that was her admission that there was a rift so wide it couldn't be mended. For a woman who was losing her mind, she had a surprising amount of insight.

She let go of me and grabbed ahold of my hand instead. "'C'mon, you can sleep in our room tonight," she said, tugging me alongside her.

I resisted, curling my toes into the carpet. "I … I appreciate that, I do, but I think I'd rather stay here."

"You sure?" Her eyes pleaded with me. She was reaching out to me again, and if it weren't for what I knew, I might've gone, but I couldn't. Just as it always had been, the only person I trusted around here was my brother.

"Alright, then." She respected my decision and left promptly, pausing only to wish me goodnight.

When I was sure she was gone and not returning, I threw myself facedown into Steve's bed. The springs squeaked and sunk so deep I swore I felt the floor beneath me. I continued to lie there for several minutes, just breathing. In and out. In and out. Labored and shaky. On the verge of a scream.

It seemed like forever before Steve reared his head, and when he did, he wasn't willing to cough up a single detail. I asked him again and again and again, and not one. Not even an acknowledgement he was okay, which could only mean he was far from. "Steve, please," I begged for the umpteenth time to no avail.

At least he wasn't willing to lie, but leaving me hanging like this was no less cruel.

"You're going to bed now," he ordered. "I don't care where you sleep. Here, your bed, the couch, the floor, wherever. I don't give a shit, but we ain't talkin'. Not now."

"Tomorrow?"

"Alright, fine."

"Okay," I said. He probably only said it to get me to listen, but I'd give him the benefit of the doubt. For now.

He pulled the covers up over me and moved to flip the light off.

I scooted as far to the edge of the bed as possible, even though he had a fairly large bed. Big enough you could probably fit a third person comfortably if you wanted, but I remembered the all important imaginary line rule. Cross it, and he went ballistic. When we were younger and forced to share a smaller bed at Aunt Rita's, he'd shoved me to the floor many nights for breaking it. I complained to her once or twice of spite, and she told me to suck it up for two reasons—one, she couldn't afford a second bed, and two, she claimed that back in her day all the kids had to share the same bed in a tiny one room house. It was that or sleep on a dirt floor. _Kids these days are spoiled with too many luxuries_, she'd sneer.

I could still hear her voice, and I almost missed it. "Goodnight, Steve," I said, hoping he'd at least mumble a goodnight back, but all I got was a typical, grumpy, and hardly intelligible reminder about that line rule.

xxxx

_Saturday, January 21st, 1967_

Steve was nowhere to be found when I woke up.

Neither was Carol.

I found Dad and Shannon at the kitchen table. Shannon was babbling away about nonsense, and Dad sat with his forehead in his hands, looking at me like he wanted me to save him. He had an aspirin bottle next to him along with his usual hangover cure—coffee mixed with some kind of booze.

"Hey, Shannon, why don't you go to our room and get our dolls ready for us to play with?"

Her face lit up and she hopped to her feet. "Okay."

"Good, then go," I said, trying to hide my impatience.

"Feel better, Daddy," she said, giving him a tight hug before she scurried away.

He winced, but did his best to return the embrace, kissing the top of her head and assuring her he was already feeling better.

I watched her prance away until I heard the door click shut and turned back to our father.

He was nibbling on a piece of toast, avoiding eye contract with me.

I gave him a couple seconds before I said anything and fixed myself a bowl of cereal, but when I sat down, I could be quiet no more. "You tell her you're sick?"

"I _am_ sick."

"No, you're not," I told him firmly. "How'd you get that black eye?"

He dropped his toast in his coffee and stared at me. "What black eye?"

The obvious one. The bulging, black and blue, appetite squashing mess. "Your right eye is twice the size of your left one. How could I miss it?"

"Accident," he mumbled. "Bumped into something."

"What'd you bump into?"

He pulled the now soggy toast of the coffee mug and got up to throw it away. "It … it doesn't matter," he said, moving at a snail speed.

"You got in a fight, didn't you?" I asked.

He stepped forward and shook a finger at my cereal bowl. "Eat your damn cereal."

"Who was it?" I knew it was Peter. I just wanted to hear him admit it.

"I already told you it was an accident. Now eat your damn breakfast."

"How come you can't tell me how this accident happened then?" I pressed on, purposely setting my spoon down in the bowl. "Who gave it to you?"

"_No on_e gave it to me," he said, carefully uttering each word. "But I'll tell you what I'll give you if you don't quit badgering me about it."

"What?"

"Eat your breakfast." He reclaimed his seat and tossed back his coffee as though it weren't piping hot. "I work hard to put a meal in front of you, and you keep playing with those Rice Krispies around like we got money for you to waste."

"It was Peter, wasn't it?"

"No."

"You sure about that, Charlie?"

He leaned closer, the cuffs of his long sleeve shirt riding up his forearms enough reveal a gash that probably trailed further up his arm. "This is your last warning, little girl." He shoved his sleeves down and reclined back against the seat.

"What happened to your arm?"

He got up from the table slowly and limped away, but only because he was unable to move any faster. He turned around and lurched back like he had something to say to me, but when he got there, he just snatched his aspirin bottle off the table and kept moving. I watched him close. He hacked a horrible cough, popped a couple pills, and chewed them as he walked away. There was no way it was just a hangover.

Trying to regain my appetite, I shoveled a spoonful of soggy Rice Krispies into my mouth and choked on them when I heard a loud thud.

"Daddy," Shannon screamed.

The sound was him. He'd collapsed to the floor.


	25. Chapter 25

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"Shannon, what happened?"

"I dunno."

"You see him fall?"

She hugged her arms around her midsection, shaking her head. "He gonna be okay?"

I looked down; he was sprawled out on the floor, limp as a deflated tire. "Yeah, he'll be fine."

"You sure?"

"I'm sure." I sucked in a breath and dropped to my knees beside him. He'd better be fine.

"You really sure?"

"Yes, Shannon, I'm really sure." The lies poured out of my mouth so effortlessly. "He's probably just passed out 'cause he didn't sleep much last night. He'll be fine."

She looked as unconvinced as I felt. Face scrunched in an intense scowl, she resembled our father more than ever. "No, he won't."

"I promise," I said.

She shook her head and cried out "Dad, Dad!" several times, but she wouldn't dare come without a foot of him.

"C'mon, Dad, you're okay." I poked his arm and thought I heard him grunt, so I poked again him harder. "Hey, let's just get you back to bed, and you can rest, okay?"

He wouldn't budge an inch. I leaned forward, straining to hear the sound again, but I must've imagined it. _Goddamn it, Dad._ I exhaled the breath I'd been holding and tried to focus on whatever the hell I was supposed to be doing. I hovered over him, drowning in indecision. He needed a doctor, badly, but I couldn't erase the last time he'd been to the hospital from my memory. I could still see the event unfolding—Steve throwing the punch, Dad hitting the floor, the paramedics rushing him away—and that wasn't the worst of it. The worst was how despondent he became, how he swore he'd lose custody of us and insisted we live with our aunt. Granted, Rita was dead now, but the threats were even greater this time. No thanks to his boozed up coffee, there was more than a trace of alcohol in his blood. Enough you could say his drunkenness caused, or at least aggravated, his injuries, and what kind of sympathy would they have for a drunk in his condition? I could just see the looks doctors and nurses would give us; not to mention the long list of questions we'd be asked.

We were screwed. We were so screwed, and Carol. Oh, God, Carol was another concern. Steve once said she'd be our saving grace should Dad lose custody of us, but I couldn't count on that with all I knew.

"Julia, you okay?" Shannon asked.

I jerked my head towards her and glared. Of course I wasn't okay. Between these worries, it occurred to me we might be witnessing his death.

"We need to do something," she urged.

No shit, we did, but he'd put me in an awful position. If he were conscious, he'd threaten punishment for even considering to get him help, and it wasn't just losing custody, it was the hospital bills we'd never be able to pay back, but what was I supposed to do?

"We gotta do something," Shannon wailed, and my head started pulsating.

"Shut up." I couldn't think above the pounding. My heart was beating so fast, I thought I was having a heart attack, and the sight of him began to infuriate me. He remained unconscious on the floor, drool dripping out of the corners of his mouth, jeans saturated from pissing himself. He looked pathetic, and I'd never been more ashamed to call him my father in my entire life

"You son of a bitch." I grabbed his shoulders and shook him fiercely. "What'd you do to yourself this time, you son of a bitch?"

Shannon gasped behind me. "Don't say that," she whined, but her pleas meant nothing to the adrenaline surging through me. I slapped him across the face, and when he still didn't come to, I drew my hand back again_ C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, wake up. Wake up, already!_

"Stop it." Shannon got her tiny hands around my arm and pulled me away from him as best she could.

I resisted her pull. "For Christ sakes, Dad, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"You're hurting him. Stop it, Julia. Please."

There was urgency in her tone, and I paused long enough to catch my breath. It hit me then; I was as bad as Steve. Maybe worse. Steve had knocked him unconscious some months ago, but I was beating on him while he was unconscious, and that seemed a million times worse. "Oh, God, Dad," I whispered, grabbing at his wrist, frantically trying to feel for his pulse. I hadn't meant to hurt him. Honest, I hadn't. I was just scared and desperate.

"Is he d-d-dead?" Shannon asked. "He's dead… He looks dead."

"Don't you dare say that," I yelled, acutely aware she might be right. I pressed and pressed and pressed, but I couldn't feel a damn thing.

"Quit yellin' at me," she whimpered, trembling head to toe. Her sleeves were drenched in tears and snot from wiping at her face. "And quit sayin' he's fine, 'cause I know he's not."

"For the last time, Shannon, he's okay," I said, and he _was _fine; I just was stupid. We'd learned how to take our pulses in gym class once, but of course, I hadn't paid attention and made up a number when the teacher asked me what my heart rate was. "Please, Dad."

I gave up and thrust my ear against his chest. He was breathing. Shallowly but steadily, I felt his chest rise and fall, and I heart a tiny heartbeat too, just as week as his breathing. "He's fine. He's breathing."

"Promise?" Shannon choked out between her sniffling.

"Yeah, I promise." The relief was immense until she looked at me with these big, pleading eyes.

I swallowed and hung my head to the floor. She truly believed I was in control of everything. Even after I'd yelled at her, even after I'd attacked him, she still had faith I knew what I was doing, and I didn't. Wasn't it obvious I didn't?

"I'm scared," she hiccuped. "Maybe … we needa … take 'im … to the hospital?"

_No, he won't die, he won't. Look, he ain't dead_, I thought, but I lacked the confidence to speak aloud. I kneaded my fingers deep into my temples and closed my eyes for a second. She was right. His safety was a million times more important than my worries. "Call an ambulance," I resigned, shooing her off to the phone.

I pressed my ear to his chest again. If I'd wasted any time with all this hesitation, I'd never forgive myself. "Go," I barked at Shannon, panicked once again by his weak breathing. "Now. We ain't got much time."

She froze, staring at me as though I'd just pulled a gun out and shot him in the head. "But I don't know how."

"Come sit with him while I do then."

She crept forward, little by little. I wanted to tell her to hurry it up already, but it was clear she was as afraid of me as she was him, and it just about killed me. Still, I didn't have time to reassure her when every second counted. My conscience kept telling me we were down to the final minute because I'd wasted several being indecisive.

I rushed for the phone and did what I had to. For a moment, I was proud of myself. The amount of confidence and poise I had was tremendous, but it abandoned me as soon as I hung up, and I was left staring at the phone, feeling just as lost as I had minutes ago. Soon, we'd hear sirens. Soon, we'd be at the hospital, but I didn't have time to dwell on those worries. There was something else I had to do.

I took a deep breath, picked up the receiver, and dialed the number to the DX. Calling Steve should've been the easy task, but somehow it was hardest yet. I knew he was at work or Soda's, and as phone rang on, I wished I'd have dialed the Curtis's number first. It'd be less awkward if he wasn't there.

"I… I think I have the wrong number," I faltered when it finally picked up.

I moved to hang up, but Steve's voice halted me. "Julia," he said tersely. He wasn't inquiring; he _knew_ it was me.

"Steve, I … "

"What?"

"This is gonna sound crazy, but something's wrong with, Dad. It's bad, Steve. It's real bad. I dunno, it's just awful, an'—" God, I couldn't articulate a single thought. The harder I tried, the more jumbled it became.

"Jule, I can't make out a word you're saying. Slow. Down."

"It's Dad."

"Yeah, I caught that much. What'd he do?"

"Please just come home."

"You know, I can't exactly leave work with nothin' go off of," he informed me. "So you better tell me more than that."

"Please."

I heard him sigh. A long, heavy, "I can't believe you're making me do this" kind of sigh, and it was half my fault. I could've told him the real reason and he'd be speeding to get here, but I couldn't bring myself to say it on the phone. "Please," I repeated. "I … I need you."

There was a long pause, and I tried to imagine what his expression might be if he were standing here. Silence with him was usually a bad thing "Okay, kid, okay," he said, tone reassuring. "You hang tight, and I'll be there soon."

And he was, just as he promised. He arrived right as the ambulance left and burst through the door, demanding to know what happened. Two-Bit was with him of all people.

"He was still hurt from last night," I managed. "Passed out and wouldn't come to. He fell, so maybe be hit his head or somethin', I dunno."

Steve gave a hard nod, calmer now that he had an answer, or maybe he just knew he had to be because Shannon and I weren't. She was worse off than me, curled up in the corner, bawling her eyes out. I'd tried to comfort her when I got off the phone with him, but she shoved me away.

"We really oughta get ourselves over to the hospital," Steve said. "Right now."

I nodded in agreement.

Steve stuffed his heads in his pocket and huffed a sigh. "Can I bother you for another ride, Two-Bit? Just perfect my car don't wanna work today of all days."

"Sure thing, Steve-o, but under one condition."

"How generous of you," Steve said.

Two-Bit stepped toward the door intently, keys in his hand. He was helping us regardless of this condition.

"And what exactly would that be?" Steve asked.

Two-Bit smiled. "You admit my Donna ain't a piece of junk. She may not look like much, but she's a nice ride."

Steve and I looked at each other. He looked like he wanted to punch Two-Bit.

Shannon giggled. "Cars don't have names."

"Mine sure does, little miss," Two-Bit chirped and flipped his head back to Steve. "So what do you say, buddy? It seems ol' Donna came through when your wheels didn't this morning, and it would seem she's saving the day again, ain't she? Might be time to admit she's far from a junker."

"Don't hold your breath," Steve told him, more amused than he was willing to let on. "Only a matter of time before that engine gives out the way you treat it."

"It? What kind of a gentleman calls a lady an it?"

"Your car ain't no lady, and I'm tellin' ya, that engine's barely holding up."

"Nonsense." Two-Bit waved his through the air. "She's got plenty of juice left to put out."

Steve smacked the back of his head. "Watch your damn mouth around my sisters."

"I ain't never said no cuss words."

"It's okay," Shannon piped up. "Steve and Julia both say more bad words than you."

"Do they now?" Two-Bit howled. "Well, I'd love to hear those stories."

She unfolded her arms from around her knees and stood up. "Okay."

"We gotta get going," Steve mumbled impatiently at Two-Bit. "Quit fucking around, will ya? This is serious."

Shannon stared at him, mouth gaping.

Steve groaned and shot a finger at her. "Don't you dare repeat that."

"Yeah, Steve," Two-Bit coughed. "An' I got the filthy mouth."

"Well, you don't have to curse to have a filthy mouth," I interjected.

"Wow, Julia, you sound like my mother."

"I happen to like your mom, so I'll take that as a compliment."

Steve spoke, his voice cutting through all of ours. "We're wasting time. C'mon."

I didn't dare argue with him.

Two-Bit didn't either. Her must've sensed his attempts to lighten the mood were no longer appropriate.

"But he didn't admit that Donna isn't a piece of junk yet," Shannon pointed out

"'S alright, little lady," he said, suddenly donning a serious demeanor. "He's my buddy, and sometimes buddies do nice things for each other."

I tried to grab her hand to lead her away, but she shunned me in favor of holding Two-Bit's. Why she liked him so much, I'd never know. He was a guy, and she was wary of guys, but in the two minutes she'd known him, you'd have thought her was her favorite human.

xxxx

"Well, the doctor says he's gonna be fine, but you sure look like shit," Steve said, taking a seat beside me. It was the most he'd said to me in the hour we'd been in the waiting room.

"Gee, thanks."

He shrugged and lit a cigarette. "Don't take it the wrong way."

"How can I not?"

"Maybe I mean it out of sympathy."

"Sympathy, huh?" I narrowed my eyes and reached for his pack.

He grabbed my hand. "You been smoking a little much lately, don'tcha think?"

"You started smoking when you were eleven."

"Yeah, but I'm a guy, an' guys ain't affected by it as much as chicks."

"That sounds like bullshit."

He glared at me as he fished a cigarette out of the pack. "One," he instructed carefully and waited for me to agree before he forked it over.

I nodded and took it.

He handed me his lighter and watched as I lit it. "What? I didn't do it wrong," I growled, giving it back to him.

"No," he stated plainly, but it was clear he was miffed about something.

I blew the smoke from the cigarette in his face.

He frowned at me. "Honest, I didn't mean to offend you. I jus' said you look like shit, and you do."

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks."

"You do," he insisted, pointing at me. "Like you ain't slept in days. Like you had to handle that entire situation on your own, and you did. Clearly it was bad, so you look like shit. Why's that such an awful thing? I'm tryin' to sympathize with you."

"Doesn't sound like it. When you say I look like shit, that's like sayin' I'm ugly."

"Oh, for Christ's sake." He slapped his hands to his knees. "Girls get their feelings hurt so easy."

"And that's offensive too," I said, choking on the smoke.

He grabbed it from me and put it out. I didn't bother whining. I didn't want it anymore anyway.

"Is it now?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Well, you're wrong. It ain't offensive, it's a fact."

"And now it's even more offensive."

He tore the tore weed from his lips, extinguished it haphazardly, and shot me a look."What do you want me to say? I'm serious, what do you want me to say? I don't wanna fight with you, but you seem to wanna argue with me."

"I … I don't know." It caught me off guard because he actually sounded sincere.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there sooner."

"Shannon was there," I said indifferently.

"Then I pity you even more. Can't have been much help, could she?"

"Anything but."

"Figured so."

He scooted closer to me and moved an arm around my shoulder. "So how'd it happen?"

"I dunno. I heard him fall, and there he was," I explained.

"Anything else?"

I swallowed. "I guess, I was fighting with him before that?"

"Okay."

"Okay?" I questioned.

"Okay," he repeated. "What happened happened."

"But maybe I shouldn't have fought with him."

"You're a saint if you can avoid it."

"But I was bad, Steve. I was downright awful to him."

"How so?"

"I slapped him," I confessed and somehow managed to spill the rest.

Steve let talk without interrupting me, only speaking again once I'd fallen silent for a moment. It was the longest moment of my life, too. If he put any blame on me, I wouldn't be able to handle it, but he didn't. "It's alright," he told me, extending his other arm around and pulling me closer. "You were scared, and people do things without thinking when they're scared."

"But I was angry too."

"You don't think it's possible to be mad and scared at the same time?"

"Well, I guess so, but—"

"But what? You handled it as best you could."

"No, I didn't have to slap him like that."

"You handled it as best you could at the time," he maintained. "Hell, look at it this way—at least he was unconscious and won't remember it."

"That doesn't make me feel any better."

"You gotta let it go."

"But what if he stays unconscious forever? And it's my fault?"

"That's ridiculous. That ain't gonna happen, and it wouldn't be your fault anyway."

"How do you know?"

"Did you even hear me say the doctor said he was gonna be fine earlier?"

I pursed my lips together and shook my head.

"Well, I did," he went on. "But I guess you were too hung up on me saying you looked like shit."

I grimaced, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach. "Steve—"

"Just listen for a second," he said and shushed me when I tried to protest. "Now the doctor already explained it to me. He lost a fair amount of blood in the fight last night, and it ain't a good idea to drink when you're in that condition. Plus, he's got a couple busted ribs. He'll be fine, though. Doctor says he expects him to make a full recovery."

"But what if—"

"Enough of the whats ifs already," he said. "I don't care what you say. None of this is your fault. All this is on him. If he don't want us fightin' with him, he oughta stop doin' stupid shit."

"But I still didn't have to hit him."

"Did he have to hit you?" he asked.

I bit my lip, unsure what time he was referring to. Last night? Last week? Every time he'd ever struck me?

"If you say yes, I'll kill you."

I smiled in spite of the tension. "So you're telling me he can't hit me, but I'd deserve to be killed by you?"

"It's just an expression, smartass."

"So you're not mad at me?" It was a stupid question. He was calmer than could be expected, but I needed to hear him say it to believe it.

"Why the hell would I be?"

"Cheater!" Two-Bit's voice carried through the entire room.

I jerked my head to where he and Shannon sat. "What's goin' on?"

"Oh, nothin', she just keeps whipping my butt at tic-tac-toe is all," he said.

She was all smiles.

"And would you look at that guilty face." He shook a finger at her and smirked. She could hardly contain her laughter. "It's a conspiracy, I tell ya."

"Yeah, a conspiracy, alright," I called back. "It's called stop letting her win."

"Me? Let her win?" He put his hand over his heart and shook his head solemnly. "I'm deeply offended, Julia. You think I'd do that? No way, I'm a man of integrity. Either she's a genius or she's cheating."

"Or you're just a dumbass," Steve offered with a shrug.

"Can you believe this man?" Two-Bit looked at Shannon and clicked his tongue against his teeth disapprovingly. "Guess nobody ever told him to mind his manners, huh?"

Shannon laughed harder, and I whispered to Steve, "I guess it's good your car broke down."

"Alright, now I am mad at you," he whispered back harshly. "Why the hell would you think that?"

I pointed to Two-Bit. "He's got her well-entertained, and you should've seen how upset she was. It's a godsend."

"Yeah, I suppose so," he said, once again more amused than he wanted to let on. "I beg to differ when the giant dork tells me he don't like kids. Look at him. He's... " Steve trailed off and looked at the door.

I expected a doctor, but instead, it was Carol, and boy, did she look hacked.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She stomped over to us and glared at Steve in particular. "I come home to an empty house, an' the only reason I know a damn thing is 'cause the neighbors told me."

"Well, excuse me, but I had no clue how to get ahold of you. Don't know your work number."

"Julia knows it." She turned to me, eyebrow raised for an explanation.

"Lay off her," Steve promptly defended me. "She and Shannon were alone with him, you know. Shook her up pretty bad when she found him."

"I'm his _wife_. And your sister's _mother_."

"Look, I ain't sayin' you don't have a right to be mad at someone, but it ain't her you should be mad at."

Carol glared at us both a minute longer, huffed something under her breath, and walked to Shannon.

Shannon waltzed over to her, still smiling. "Mom, this is my new friend, Two-Bit."

Carol reached out and pulled Shannon to her side, eying Two-Bit skeptically.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," he greeted, offering her a handshake.

She extended her hand hesitantly, shook his, and stalked away with Shannon.

"Moooom, we weren't done playing!"

"You know better than to play with strangers," she chided her under her breath and turned to Steve. "And shame on you for letting her."

"He's Steve's friend," I said, trying hard not to belt it at her. "He drove us here. Steve's car ain't working, and you oughta thank him for being so nice to my sister."

She blushed and mumbled, "I didn't know that. I'm sorry. I just thought—"

"Oh, it's perfectly alright," Two-Bit assured her. "I understand completely."

Carol apologized again and drug an unhappy Shannon out of the room with her.

As soon as she was out of sight, Steve turned to me and said, "If you dare blame yourself for her little outburst, I swear to God I'll—"

"I won't," I said.

It was much easier to let this go than what I'd done to our father, especially when Dad's injuries were only the beginning of the repercussions.

"I'm gonna go call my mom," Two-Bit announced. "Let her know where I am."

I gave Steve a funny look as Two-Bit walked out in search of a pay phone.

"His dad went to work and never came home one day," he said. "So he always calls her."

It was anything but what I expected to hear. Of course, I knew about that situation from Rachel, but it was weird, Steve coughing up sensitive information without me having to ask for it.

When Two-Bit returned, he had a complicated expression. I wasn't sure if he was upset or if he was about to crack a highly inappropriate joke.

"Something wrong?" Steve asked him.

"Kinda," Two-Bit said. No smirk or smile. It was serious. "I mean, not at my place, my mom and sister are fine, but she tells me about how the fuzz found some guy dead in the neighborhood, an' I think it's your dad's friend." Two-Bit got real quiet all of sudden. "I mean, the one he was fighting with."

"You sure about this?"

"Yeah," Two-Bit replied. "Ma was so relieved to hear I was okay and says the little sis's having a hissy fit she wouldn't let her go out. I guess, it was pretty brutal."

Steve and I exchanged looks. We were thinking the same thing.

It was more than likely Peter had a ton of enemies, more than likely it wasn't Dad's fault, but the thought still crossed our minds.


	26. Chapter 26

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

"I swear to God if Charlie had anything to do with this," Steve started up for the hundredth time.

Thank God for Two-Bit. Reasoning with my brother's impossible brain would've been a nightmare for me, but apparently Two-Bit had as much of a knack dealing with unreasonable people as he did five year olds.

"Hey, buddy, you need to calm down, okay? You can't jump to conclusions like this."

"I ain't jumping to conclussions."

"Yeah, you kinda are, and whenever you to this, you usually end up wrong."

"Charlie _still _probably had something to do with it," Steve said, flinging his cigarette ash across the waiting room.

Two-Bit grabbed Steve by his shoulders. "You don't know shit about shit."

"You ain't got a clue what you're on about."

Two-Bit nearly shook him. "Remember when you were blaming Pony for him and Johnny when they disappeared? Saying he must've done something absent-minded? Now did a lick of it end up Ponyboy's fault?"

"He's got a point, Steve," I said, but I should've kept my trap shut. Now Steve would feel cornered, and his answers would get more and more defensive.

"Well, if the little shit hadn't ran away when Darry hit him... And you can't deny he had that hit comin'."

Two-Bit's eyes flickered as he thrust Steve against the nearest wall. "If you say one more word about Pony, I swear to Christ, we'll take this outside and I'll beat the living shit outa you."

Steve stared at Two-Bit, bleary-eyed, like he was about to get choked up or something, and I thought that'd be the end of it, but no. Steve _always_ needed the last word. "I ain't saying the whole thing's his fault. It's Bob's, so don't you go sayin' I'm blamin' Pony, 'cause I'm not."

Two-Bit thrust him against the wall a second time. "Then what the hell are you trying to say, Steve, huh? 'Cause it sure sounds like you're blaming people to me."

"I'm sayin' it's Bob's fault, but Pony running away definitely had something to do with it," Steve said so bitterly, I knew he meant it. "Same as Charlie'll have something to do with this mess. Don't mean it's his fault, but he'll have contributed to it."

"Steve, don't talk like that," I started in, but Two-Bit had already clocked him upside the head good for me.

Somehow Steve knew not to fight back. Whether Two-Bit's threat resonated with him or he knew he was wrong, I couldn't tell, but he didn't retaliate. He just shoved Two-Bit off him and fumbled to light a cigarette.

"And you can't deny you had that hit comin'," Two-Bit said, wagging a finger in Steve's direction. "So I don't wanna hear a damn word, Steven Charles Randle."

Steve made a fist and jabbed Two-Bit in the shoulder—by the smirk on his lips, it was half in jest, half in anger. That was the hard part about watching my brother go at it with his friends. You never knew when they were joking or when they were being serious, and it could flip from one extreme to the other in a matter of seconds. "By the way, that ain't my middle name, you half brain."

"_Half brain_? So I'm half brain now? I thought that was your nickname for Sandy."

"We ain't ever gonna see her again, so congratulations, it's yours now."

"Well, I'll be damned, Steven. You cut me deep. You cut me real deep."

"His middle name is Scott after our mom's father," I said, unsure why I felt the need to interrupt. Maybe the reason Steve was ticked in the first place. We didn't want more comparisons drawn between him and our father than the obvious ones you couldn't deny.

"Why, thank you, Julia," Two-Bit said kindly, which tightened the knot in my stomach even more.

He turned back Steve and cleared his throat. "Now you see what happens when we go making assumptions, Steven? I might've just assumed you were named after your father."

I broke into nervous giggles over the way he said it. He sounded like a disgruntled school teacher giving his class one of those _now-what-did-we-learn-today_ speeches.

Steve eyed Two-Bit and then me. He stared at me longer, and I knew right then my laughter had hurt him more than Two-Bit's teasing. "Steve," I said, rapidly composing myself.

He stormed out of the room before I could finish, so I chased after him. "Steve, _please_."

"Woah, there, give 'im a little space." He caught the back of my cardigan. "You catch up to him, and he'll probably just yell at you and feel bad about it later."

"But that was mean of me ... to laugh at him."

"He'll get over it."

He would, but that didn't make the present any easier.

"Besides, how many times has he hurt your feelings by laughing at you?" he asked.

I thought about it. Too many to count, but that didn't make it okay.

"If it's anywhere close to the amount of times I've made my little sister cry, it'd take you a lifetime to get even. 'Cause that's kind of what we big brothers do. We get under your skin. Boy, do we ever get under your skin, and then we get all butthurt about it when our little sis decides she oughta return the favor."

"But it ain't about getting even," I said. "Not for me it's not."

"Excuse me, would you mind keeping it down over there?" a lady hissed from across the room. She sat up straighter in her chair and glared at us as though she'd been trying to get us to pipe down for the last ten minutes.

"Pardon me, miss?" Two-Bit asked.

"_Ma'am_," she corrected him, continuing to shoot her dirty look at us. Poor thing was forced to listen to our nonsense, but I couldn't help my annoyance.

"Hey, mind your damn business, lady," I told her. "My dad might be dying right now, so forgive me if I ain't so polite."

"I'm sorry to hear about your father, but you're bothering my father." She turned to the elderly man beside her. "My mother's very sick, too, and he's been trying to take a nap."

He was already napping, so I didn't know what her problem was. It wasn't until she took his hand in hers that he jolted woke up. "What's going on, Darlene?"

"Pardon our noise, sir," Two-Bit improvised. "I'm awful sorry my niece and nephew have been so rude. You'll have to excuse us. You see, we're all a little upset my brother's been in the hospital."

Darlene looked at Two-Bit as though he'd lost his mind. "Where are you parents?"

"Now, now, Darlene," her father spoke up and smiled at Two-Bit. "This nice young man just told us his brother is sick same as your mother. Her father and mother must surely be busy with that."

"Thank you, sir." Two-Bit nodded in his direction. "It really has been difficult."

"I sure am sorry to hear about your father," the man continued. "I'll keep him in my prayers."

Two-Bit nodded again. "Thank you, and we'll pray for your wife in ours, too."

"The hell're you doing?" I whispered loudly.

"Mind your language, girl," Two-Bit said, still very much in character.

I lifted an eyebrow at him and mouthed, "shut up". He didn't even look like my uncle. Fortunately, this elderly gentleman was too senile to notice, but his daughter probably thought we were crazy.

Two-Bit sighed and turned to the old man. "Kids these days," he said.

"Oh, I hear you loud and clear, son," the man said. "I swear the only thing these hoodlums need is a good thrashin' to set 'em straight. It worked for me. We sure didn't have juvenile delinquents back in _my_ day."

"I couldn't agree more, and you'll have to excuse me now." He winked back at the man. "I think it's about time I set this wayward child straight."

I gave in and played my part, stomping my foot to the floor and pouting in my finest Shannon impersonation yet. "Please, Uncle Keith, I promise I'll be good."

"Oh, you'll be good for a long time by I'm through with you. Now, remember, this is gonna hurt me more than it'll hurt you…"

He couldn't escort me out to the room fast enough. By the time we'd hit fresh air, we could hardly catch our breaths we were laughing so hard.

"_We sure didn't have juvenile delinquents in my day_," Two-Bit mocked in a shaky old man voice. "Honest, I feel sorry for 'im. He probably thinks rock music is the devil, 'cause of the way Elvis swings his hips. Hey, are you hungry? I'm starving."

"What?" He changed subjects so often when he talked I could hardly keep up with him.

I shrugged and followed him anyway. He led me to a nearby convenience store and made me wait outside while he five-finger-discounted all the junk food he could stuff in his jacket and pockets. When he'd accomplished his mission, he offered me two candy bars, a coke, and even a pack of cigarettes. "Steve's always whining about how you're smoking his cigarettes now, so there you go. Don't tell 'im I gave them to you though."

I looked at the pack of Kools in my hand. "Really, Two-Bit? You stole cigarettes for me?"

"Oh, wait, those are mine." He snatched it straight from my fingers and swapped it with package of candy cigarettes. "These are yours. I think that's your favorite brand, ain't it?"

God, I needed to be nicer to Rachel... If she'd put up with twelve years of this bullshit, no wonder she was the way she was.

xxxx

Two-Bit walked me back to the hospital and was forced to leave. He wasn't even joking around, but Dad's nurse about had an aneurysm we let a non family member into Dad's room, so now it was me, Steve, and Dad's shallow breathing.

The silence between the three of us was agonizing. The only time I heard Steve speak was when the doctor entered the room, and each time, Steve had to question the doctor's verdict. "You sure he ain't in a coma?"

"He's resting," the patient saint of a man replied. "If I were you, I'd go home, son. He needs his rest more than anything."

I slid my feet up to Steve and put a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe we oughta. We can come back in the morning."

"No," Steve insisted stubbornly. He sat at Dad's bedside, hovering over him like he'd die if he didn't sit there.

"You can stay another hour, but as I've said, when visiting hours are up, we'll have to ask you to leave," the doctor informed us yet again. "We don't allow minors to stay past visiting hours. Only spouses."

"Yeah, I heard you the first time," Steve said coolly.

I slapped him when the doctor was out of sight. "You're so mean to people. We probably got the nicest doctor in this whole hospital, and you're just acting like a prick."

"Does this bastard even have a medical degree? Look at that." Steve pointed at dad. "He sure looks like he's in a coma."

"I'm sure he wouldn't lie to us, and you don't exactly have a medical degree, so what makes you think you know so much?"

Steve glared at me and turned away.

Several more minutes passed in silence. I urged Steve to take me home. It was getting dark out, and I didn't want to walk in the dark even if he walked beside me.

Steve relented, but not without trying to talk to Dad first. "You better learn something from this, you son of a bitch." He grabbed his hand. "You scared us half to death."

Dad squeezed his hand back, and we both looked on as though we'd seen a man rise from the dead.

Steve nearly had tears in his eyes. "This better be the last fucking time, Charlie. Last fucking time. I'm so done with this bullshit."

Dad sat up slowly, grimacing and sweating from the pain it caused him, and wrapped both arms around Steve.

Steve didn't know how to handle it. He just sat on the edge of the hospital bed stiffly as Dad squeezed him tighter. A moment later, Dad motioned me over, so I could join their embrace.

I went slowly, and Dad squeezed me against them so hard it hurt. "I love you two so much."

It had to be the painkillers talking.

"I love you so much," he said again, desperate for us to hear it.

"We love you too," I assured him, but Steve didn't say a word.

Dad let go and collapsed back against the hospital bed.

"I dunno if it's a good time to tell you, but Peter's dead," Steve said. I nearly decked him for saying it when Dad was _just_ turning around, but maybe it was best we got it out there in the open. If he bottled it up as long as he had the stuff about Carol, it'd be disastrous.

Dad looked stunned, relieved, and horrified at the same time. "What?"

"Two-Bit heard," Steve explained. "I guess I dunno if it's true, but I figure you oughta know."

Dad nodded and bit his lip, clearly trying to digest the information, and that was when I fell impatient. Two seconds ago, I wanted to slap Steve for acting the same way, and now I couldn't help the things flying out of my own mouth. "Why'd you do it?" I asked him. "Why'd you need that money so bad?"

"I ain't got a clue what you're talking about."

"We know everything," I told him. "_Every_thing."

Steve pinched my arm as a warning. "Shut up."

"What do you know?" Dad asked, oozing impatience.

I glanced at Steve to help me out. He leaned close to my ear and whispered, "You made your bed, now lie in it."

He knew what I was going to say—I was gonna talk about Carol.

"I swear to God if one of you doesn't answer me in the next three seconds," Dad began.

"We know about Carol." I took a deep breath. "Steve told me."

"That oughta answer your question then."

"How does that answer shit?"

"We'll talk about it more later."

"No, now," I half yelled. "I'm sick of being lied to. Tell us _now_."

"If you don't watch yourself, young lady, I'll spank you right here, an' I won't even care if a nurse walks in."

"Don't be ridiculous, Charlie," Steve said, but Dad's threat didn't scare me as much as it did him.

"How exactly are you gonna do that from your hospital bed?"

Dad leaned forward and grabbed me by my upper arm. I'd be a liar if I said it didn't intimidate me, but I felt the amount of energy it took him to sit up. He'd wasted what little strength he had giving us a hug; there was none left to punish me, so I went ahead and coughed up the dirty details. "I know she tried to murder her ex husband, so how does anything you've said explain a damn thing?"

Dad let go to my arm. He looked genuinely confused and thrust his hands into his hair so fast he almost yanked the IV out of his arm. "Where'd you hear that?"

I looked to Steve again. He couldn't look me in the eye. I was on my own. "Steve told me he overheard you an' her talking about it."

"Steve never said shit to me about shit." He sat up a bit straighter. "Steve, c'mere. I think you need to be a part of this conversation."

Steve had moved himself the back of the room. He was leaning against the wall with an expression about his face I couldn't read.

"_Now_, Steve," Dad ordered, and for once in his life, my brother listened. He came forward and nodded for Dad to talk.

"What conversation'd you overhear?" Dad asked.

"What Julia said," Steve told him. "Carol was real upset and told you she tried to poison him, and I kind of put the rest of the pieces together. He _never _went to prison. You lied to us again."

"Well, he ain't in prison. That much is true."

Steve didn't reply.

"But she didn't try to kill him."

"But I heard her tell you that," Steve insisted, suddenly defensive. "I swear to God I did."

"You might've," Dad admitted, and it must've been the painkillers again. Everything came out. "When she threatened to turn him in and leave him, he told her he'd kill himself if she did. She didn't take him seriously and left anyway, so now she feels responsible for what he tried to do."

Steve was flushing, far too embarrassed to offer anything more.

"She ain't divorced him yet," Dad went on. "We lied about her marrying me, too."

I wondered what else they lied about. Time would only tell, and we'd have to seize the moment before the effects of the medication wore off and he went back to his secretive old self.

"But we need money to take him to court to finalize everything. It ain't gonna be easy with him in the state he is. How's he gonna agree to a divorce when he can hardly talk?"

"But he hurt her and Shannon!" I shouted. "Doesn't that count for anything? Can't she get divorced 'cause of that?" I hated this man more than I'd ever hated anyone.

Dad was starting to tear up in his frustration, and my anger multiplied. I almost wished she had tried to kill him, because he deserved to die a hundred deaths.

"Carol suspects there's others he ..." Dad trailed off and shook his head. "I shouldn't even be talking to you about this, but no one's come forward with anything. It'd be her word against his."

"You're fifteen minutes past visiting hours," Dad's nurse spoke from the doorway.

Steve had grown so embarrassed he left without a word.

With the nurse's eyes on my back, I said my goodbyes. I kissed his cheek, told him I was proud of him for finally telling us, and caught up to Steve.

xxxx

Steve and I sat side by side on the Curtis's front porch. Steve had called Darry to pick us up from a payphone, and we'd been here an hour now. Soda wasn't home, he was working or something, and though Pony probably would've let me watch TV with him, I couldn't leave Steve alone. He smoked cigarette after cigarette after cigarette, and it'd be days before we could go back inside at this rate. Darry'd decreed a new rule against smoking indoors in an effort to curb Pony's habit, but nothing would cure Steve of his. He'd freeze to death before he went a day without feeding the addiction.

"I just want you to know I ain't mad at you," I said. It was the longest sentence I'd spoken to him in hours.

It was half true, and I was afraid he'd pick up on the half of me that didn't mean it. It wasn't that I blamed him. It was an honest mistake anyone might make, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't frustrated. It'd spent too long Carol had tried to murder somebody when the truth was anything but. It was that asshole's attempt to control her and Shannon, and now she couldn't even divorce him. Even if he wasn't half dead, he probably wouldn't have agreed to a divorce.

I was mad at him, but not my brother.

"Not mad, I promise," I told Steve again. He needed to hear it.

"Go ahead and be mad," he hissed. "It _is_ my fault, after all. I lied to you."

He was really beaten down. Really, really beaten now. I'd never seen him admit he was wrong that willingly, and I couldn't bullshit him any longer. "Alright, so maybe I'm a little upset, and maybe I'll have a hard time believing what you say for a while, but I'm mostly just at how messed up this is. Not you. Honest, not you." I scooted as close to him as I could and rested my head against his shoulder. "And you didn't lie to me. You believed what you were saying, so that ain't exactly lying."

I hoped my admission wouldn't make him more sullen.

Unfortunately, it did.

"You shouldn't trust me as much as you do."

I sighed. I knew what he was thinking. He was too rash, too prone to jumping to conclusions to be trusted, but he was more reliable than Dad, and that had to count for something, right?

I blinked hard and fought tears. The emotional exhaustion of the past twenty-four hours was catching up to me, and I hated it—especially since the one second I fell apart was the one second it took him to pull everything back together. He put his cigarette out and helped me to my feet. "How 'bout we head inside? You're shivering."

As we stepped inside, I overheard Darry and Pony talking about Peter. "They say it was Nate Lindberg," Pony said.

"That new kid?" Darry sounded confused. "The one I told you you oughta stay away from?"

My stomach dropped. The name sounded too familiar for comfort. I swore he was one of Annika's brothers.


	27. Chapter 27

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Darry went on to say he _just knew_ this kid was bad news while Pony stood against the wall, hands stuffed in his pockets like he'd rather do anything other than listen to his know-it-all big brother drone on.

"An' I don't like this Mark kid you hang around either," Darry said, everything about him from his voice to the way he stood insufferable and commanding. "Mom would've had a connipshit if saw you 'round the likes of him, an' you know it, too."

Pony rolled his eyes. "Glory, you're really starting to sound like an old man..."

"Did this guy just move here?" I asked Pony before Darry could harp on him again. Not that I understood how he felt or anything, but I owed him for helping me out at the movies.

"Nah, he's been here since October or so," Pony replied.

I breathed a little easier. October was forever ago, and Annika hadn't been here a full month.

"Why?" Pony asked.

I mumbled something about thinking it was my friend's brother to the floor, but it came out garble.

"Pardon?"

"Oh, nothin'."

Steve crept up behind me and tapped my shoulder. "You said something about him being your friend's brother, didn't you? That girl you went to the movies with, hmm? Her brother?"

His intuition was spot on at the worst times. "No."

"Yes." He nodded, too sure of himself.

"And there you go making assumptions again," I said, aware I was doing the same—assuming it was Annika's brother when I had no proof. She had a brother named Nate, but I couldn't remember their last name, let alone whether or not she'd actually told me their last name.

"You sure about that?"

"Maybe-I-dunno-forget-I-said-anything," I huffed in one breath.

Steve squinted and studied my face hard. "You're acting awfully strange."

"It's stupid."

"What's stupid?"

Everything. Everything was stupid, but I didn't say that. I just folded my arms and shifted my eyes to the ceiling. "Can we just go home?"

I heard Steve sigh, and though I didn't bother looking him in the eye, I could picture the look of exasperation he'd give me if I had. "You're driving me nuts," he said. "The hell's your problem now?"

I glanced at Darry and Pony and blushed. My problem was I was embarrassed for no good reason. I couldn't even name an excuse let alone begin to explain my little fit. All I knew was it felt as though the entire room were staring at me, peering directly into my brain and exposing my thoughts. It sounded crazy, of course, but it described the anguish I felt to a T.

I turned to Steve and gave him a pleading look.

"What?" he asked.

I stumbled as I stepped closer to him and would've fallen if he hadn't caught me first. "You alright?" he half-whispered.

"I just wanna go home," I muttered.

"Okay, okay, we'll go home," he relented. "Christ, kid, you're losing your damn mind."

"She's probably just worried about your dad," Darry said, giving me a sympathetic nod.

Steve stared at him. "Well, no shit, Superman."

I hoped didn't mean it as abrasively as the words flew out. He probably didn't.

"I mean, thanks again for picking us up," Steve added. "I owe you big time."

"You need a ride home?" Darry asked. "I know it ain't far, but I don't mind."

I stared at Steve with a slight pout, begging him to say yes. There was a dull ache encompassing every inch of me, but as usual, my brother was too stubborn to accept help we didn't need. "Nah, we'll walk," he affirmed, putting his hand against my back.

He thanked Darry again, pushed me out the door with him, and hardly said a word to me until we were nearing our block. "So what was that about?"

I shook my head. I couldn't explain myself if I tried, so I didn't bother, and by some miracle, Steve let me be silent. At least until we got home.

"Alright, I wanna know what your problem is," he told me, making me sit next to him on the couch. "Something's eating away at you, an' don't try to tell me you're fine, 'cause I can see you're clearly not. Maybe Darry's right. You thinking Dad's gonna die or something? Is that it? 'Cause I've told you everything the doctor said, and you heard him yourself."

"It ain't that."

"Then _what_?"

I shook my head again and tried to explain I didn't know, but he cut me off impatiently. "Never mind, I think I know. You said something back in the waiting room. Something about being scared we'd get taken away. That's it, ain't it?"

"No."

"I can tell by the way you're looking at me right now."

I wasn't looking at him in any particular way.

"Well, it ain't gonna happen, kid," he told me with his usual false confidence, and I wished he hadn't said anything because now all my thoughts were redirected back to this worry.

He nailed it. I hated to admit it, but he had, and he'd figured it before I figured it myself, which infuriated me to no end.

"Like I said, it ain't gonna happen," he repeated, trying to sound assuring. "That's a promise."

Many nights at Aunt Rita's he'd promise me similar things, and of course I believed him without question. I'd crawl up onto his lap, and he'd wrap his arms around me and tell me whatever it was I needed to hear at that moment. He seemed to know exactly what to say, and it was strange to think he'd been my age or younger at the time. Maybe _that _was why he was so kind, though. He hadn't morphed into a moody teenage boy yet, one who'd rather die than show affection. He was a real ass to me for a couple years after that transformation, but we were getting to be close as we used to be again, and even when he was grouchy, I had that blind sort of faith in him. I was innocent enough to believe he could protect me from anything. When I was four and he said he could scare away monsters, I believed him, and nothing had changed because I didn't question what he told me about Carol.

I tried not to think about it. I tried not to be sore with him. It wasn't that I couldn't forgive him for getting it wrong, but I had a hard time accepting it. Generally I lived for the moments he screwed up, so I could toss it in his face when he acted all high and mighty, but there was something terrifying in knowing he wasn't invincible. Of course, I already knew he wasn't. He only claimed to be because he had a big head and even bigger mouth, but I hadn't realized it deep down. Sometimes, deep down, I was still that scared little girl who wanted and needed to hear those promises.

I was now.

The thought of being torn away from my family, even my father, was too much to bear, but mostly I couldn't stand the thought of having to face the rest of this year without Steve. If we ended up in the same place, it wouldn't matter—we'd find a way to get through it together—but if they split us up...

"Jesus, Julia, don't waste your time worrying about ridiculous things."

"It's _not_ ridiculous," I insisted. "It _could_ happen."

He didn't bother contesting it. Unfounded as my worries were, he must've known how real they were to me. He lifted me into his arms and did his best to comfort me, holding me against him in one arm and rubbing small circles into my back with the other. "It better not happen. I'm almost eighteen for Christ's sakes," he said, and there it was. His doubt. "They're not gonna do anything when I'm almost an adult myself."

_But what about me_, _I'm stuck in this hell hole for another six years. _The selfish thought was overpowered by a worse one. Something inevitable. We might never get taken away, but he would leave. Sooner or later, he'd move out because what kid his age wanted wanted to live at home? Especially _this _home, with _this_ crazy family.

"What?" he asked me, picking up on my distress.

"Nothing."

"You're shaking," he said. "Why?"

"Why're you doing this?" I demanded, half yelling, so I wouldn't burst into tears. "Why don't you just let me go to bed and go back to Soda's, 'cause that's probably what you wanna do anyway. Admit it, you'd rather be there and you think I'm a giant baby and—"

"I never said that."

"You're probably thinking it."

"You can't read my thoughts."

"Why not? Sometimes you insist you can read mine." And it was even more frustrating when he actually could. At least he'd gotten pretty good at gauging my emotional state; unless, of course, he was mad, in which he couldn't read anybody.

"Is it really that hard for you to accept that I don't hate you?" he asked. "I mean, how'm supposed to go out and enjoy myself when I know you're upset? 'Specially when I know there's something I can do about it."

I sighed. That was just like him to be practical. If there was a problem, he needed to fix it, and I was always a problem.

"I wish I could," he admitted. "Used to be able to. Thought you were too damn sensitive for your own good, and you still are, but that ain't your fault. I mean, it's no secret things are usually pretty screwed up around here."

"Well, sorry I'm so immature," I grumbled, though I had no clue why I had to sound so objectionable. Maybe because I was touched by his words and didn't want to admit it.

"Jesus, don't apologize for it. What kid your age is supposed to have their life figured out?"

"It feels like everyone does but me."

"Guess what, I'm almost six years older than you, and I still ain't figured out my life yet, so don't act like your so special."

"But—"

"Listen," he interrupted. "All I mean is it's good you're still sensitive. Means you're not as bitter as me yet, and believe me, you don't want that."

I didn't, but I was afraid it'd already happened.

"And be a little easier on yourself, will ya?" he kept on. "Everyone's selfish and stupid when they're your age. Everyone. It's like a law or something that you have to be miserable when you're twelve."

Maybe he was right, but I didn't want to hear anything more about how stupid or miserable he thought people my age were. I took a deep breath and asked him what I really wanted to know. "When're you gonna move out?"

"That what you're worried about? This entire time. _That_?"

"No, just curious," I said quickly, afraid I'd sound clingy if I admitted to it. "You said you were gonna turn eighteen soon, so..."

"Bullshit."

I gave up and hid my face against shoulder. He was silent for a while, and I grew paranoid over what he must've been thinking. Maybe he was annoyed. Maybe he'd tell me I acting childish and needed to grow up, but he didn't. "I don't get why you're worried about that," he finally said. "I mean, things ain't gonna change much. You can come over whenever you want. Well, not _always_, but you know what I mean."

"But won't you get annoyed?"

"Of course I will, but I ain't gonna kick you to the curb if that's what you're askin'."

"But won't Dad get mad I spend more time at your place than his?" I asked because it was fair to assume I would.

"Probably," he admitted again. "But he ain't gonna do nothin' about it, and really, what could he do? He ain't gonna go to the cops and say nothin'. Besides, you and I both know how he is with responsibility. Knowing him, he'll probably be glad to have one less thing on his hands.

Oh God, he was right, and it just about killed me.

"Don't," he breathed. "Shit, don't take that the wrong way."

It was already too late. I choked on a sob and tried to pull it back together, but he was right. "Don't say that. That's exactly what Dad would do, and we both do it."

"Yeah, but he still loves you. You heard him back at the hospital, didn't you?"

"That was just the pain killers."

"Let's not talk about it anymore, okay?" he said, nudging my arm.

I wasn't sure if that was because he was uncomfortable or if he knew I was, but I sniffled and kept to myself.

"And calm yourself down before you hyperventilate, damn it," he reminded me. "Don't wanna see you pass out again."

I could hear the how annoyed he was, but I appreciated that he didn't make me get up, even though he had to be sick of showing his sensitive, sentimental side by now.

"She okay?" I heard Carol ask some time later. I must've been half asleep, though, because I didn't hear her come in.

"She'll be fine, yeah," Steve said. "Just having a shitty night is all."

"I can take over for you if you want," she offered. "It's only nine o'clock, and I was your age once. I can understand why you might wanna go enjoy your Saturday night."

"Nah, my car ain't even working anyway."

"You could borrow mine," she said, and it seemed so weird she should offer that. Maybe it was an apology for the way she'd treated him at the hospital.

"No," he still refused.

"I don't mind, honest."

"Well, I _do_," he told her. "After everything today, it'd be the worst thing I could do to her right now."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, if he was trying to tell her she was an awful step parent or if he just meant he knew I wanted him here.

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I just thought—"

"You thought wrong."

"Steve, you shouldn't have to this. You're just her brother and a kid yourself."

I cringed, knowing he'd take offense to the last part.

I pulled from him and looked at her.

She sighed. Sensing she was getting nowhere with me, she told me something about how I couldn't hang on him, that I needed to let him do the things he wanted. It was well-intentioned, but she'd hit the wrong nerve. I often worried I was a burden to him, even though he'd assured me once that I wasn't.

"Don't tell her that." Steve pushed me off his arm and stood up.

"Steve," I said, afraid it'd get as ugly as the way he was to Rosie.

"If it bothered me that much, I wouldn't let her do it, so don't you dare tell her that. Say what you want to me, but not her."

"Steve, I'm just trying to help," she said tiredly.

"Well, you ain't helping one bit," he hissed. "If anything, you just made it a thousand times worse."

I couldn't listen to this. I couldn't. I fled for my room, yet froze at my doorway, listening closely. Curiosity got the best of me.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just saying there's something really messed up about this, and there is. You're sacrificing too much, and your father just lets it happen."

"Damn it, Carol, tonight ain't the night to push it. You couldn't have picked a worse time."

"You don't have to cuss at me," Carol scolded him, but Steve ignored her.

"You know, she's worried she's gonna get taken away from Charlie. Petrified of it."

"But she won't," Carol said wearily.

"But it ain't Charlie she's afraid of leaving. It's me. She's already worried about when I'll move out."

"That's so messed up."

"You don't think I know that? You don't think it frustrates me? It does. Every day. Every. Goddamned. Day. Sometimes I wish she hated me, 'cause it be easier, but she doesn't."

"Charlie should've never allowed it to happen."

"Well, no shit, but I ain't about to punish her for his mistakes," Steve said. "Or our aunt's, and she was even worse than him. You've only known Julia for a couple months, so you wouldn't guess by the way she's been acting lately, but she used to be terrified of everything. That was Rita's fault. She'd punish her for crying too much, always told she was trying to get attention, but it wasn't that at all. She was just a sensitive kid."

"I didn't know that, and I'm sorry," Carol said, sounding genuinely shocked. "Charlie always made it sound like your aunt had done him a real favor, but—"

"I'm glad she's dead, I really am," Steve said, making me cringe. He didn't mean it. I told myself he didn't mean it, but he probably did.

"If you had any idea how many times..." he started up again.

I wanted to run out there and tell Steve to shut up. I hoped it was just his anger had blinded him to her situation. She probably knew what that fear felt like even better than I did. Aunt Rita was awful, but she meant well. There was a huge difference. Carol's ex, on the other hand, was truly evil.

"I had no idea," Carol kept saying, much to Steve's annoyance.

"Well, now you do, and do me a favor and fucking remember it the next time you think it's a brilliant idea to tell her she doesn't need me."

Steve walked away and caught up to me at my door.

"You okay?" he asked gruffly, still reeling over the fight he'd had with Carol.

I heard her slam the door to her and Dad's bedroom, and I wondered where Shannon was at this point. Maybe she'd left her at her cousin's, figuring things were gonna get ugly around here, and they certainly had.

"Everything she said is bullshit. Not a lick of it is true, you dig that?"

I nodded, but it wasn't enough of a response for him. He pinched my arm hard enough to make me grimace. It'd been a long, long time since I'd seen him this mad. "You hear me? You'd better not worry about that, or I swear to God..."

"I won't," I promised him, but he made me promise him again. And then one more time after that. He was starting to scare me.

"Shit, I ain't mad at you." But he was still yelling. "I'm mad at her."

It didn't matter. When he was mad, he was mad, and he lashed out indiscriminately.

He crouched down a bit, looking me straight in the eye. "I mean it, Jule." He tried to be gentle as he pushed my hair our of my face, but it felt more like he was pulling my hair out. "Everything she said is bullshit. You gotta understand that."

I told him I did for the millionth time

"Good." He slung an arm around me and pulled me into his side. "And you can't let it bother you either. No dwelling on it like you dwell on everything else. Promise me."

"I promise, okay?"

He nodded, finally believing it. His rage was subsiding and he looked almost embarrassed. "You sure you're okay?"

I think that was his way of saying he was sorry for pinching me and sorry he scared me. "Yeah," I assured him. "I'm fine."

He felt bad enough he kissed the top of my head and told me we could do whatever I wanted for the rest of the evening. He said he wouldn't even whine about how I liked to watch stupid things on TV, but I told him what I wanted more than else was sleep.

He respected that and left me alone.

As I walked to my room, I started to regret the decision, but by the time my head hit the pillow, I was out cold.

xxxx

_Sunday, January 22nd, 1967_

I stared at a crack in our ceiling, swearing if I had to spend another minute in this house with Carol, I'd go crazy. Shannon was still at her cousin's; Steve had gone to work; Dad was still in the hospital. So it was just us, and that was okay for a while until she decided she had to talk to me every minute of every hour. She was being kind, making a strong effort to reach out of me, but I was too exhausted and drained to have a conversation with anybody.

I just wanted to sit alone in my room and read a book or something. It wasn't her, it was everybody, but Carol kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing.

"Can I go to a friend's?" I asked her when I couldn't take it any longer. I wouldn't go to a friends, though—I'd walk around the block for a while and come back before it got too dark and cold.

"No, tomorrow's Monday, and after the weekend we've had, you need to rest up for school."

_Then shut the hell up and let me fucking rest up for school_, I thought furiously, but what came out was "To hell with school."

"Excuse me?"

"I mean who cares. I'm already gonna flunk seventh grade anyway."

"With that attitude, you certainly will," she said. "It's a real shame too. You're too damn smart to have to repeat a grade, so I sure hope you kick this attitude and start applying yourself."

I rolled my eyes. "Great, now you're gonna harp on me too."

"You're right," she said. "I am gonna harp on you, and you know why? Because I'm the closest thing you've got to a mom right now, and that's what mothers do."

I clenched my jaw and looked away. Part of me was touched by her words, and I hated that. The way she said it, the intensity behind it, was really, really amazing, and it gave me hope in a way I hadn't felt in a long time. Enough I thought I might even grow to appreciate her. Not as my mother necessarily, but something like a mother, and yet it was too hard to accept. Too much too soon, so I looked her in the eye and told her I didn't need a mom. I'd made it along fine without one.

She dismissed it, telling me many kids felt that way. Nobody liked their mom in junior high, she said, which was likely true, but I didn't wanna hear it. "I got Steve," I stubbornly insisted. "And that's good enough." Not that Steve ever had been or would be motherly, but he provided comfort and reassurance when I needed it, and that was more than most big brothers were willing to do for their little sisters.

"You do have Steve, I ain't gonna argue with that," she said. "Believe me, I agree he's been a great brother to you, but—"

"Then why'd you tell him what you told him last night?."

"Because seventeen year old kids shouldn't have to act like parents to their twelve year old little sister, and before you say another word, hear me out."

I didn't want to hear what she had to say. It took every ounce of patience I had to give her the benefit of the doubt and let her continue.

"I get it," she told me. "I've been thinking a lot about last night, and I was wrong to think I could undo years of damage. At the end of the day, he's still gonna feel responsible towards you and you'll still look up him, and that's fine. Maybe it's for the better even, but I can make it easier for him. I know for a fact he don't know the first thing about what it's like to be a girl, and consider me a thirty year expert. It can't hurt to have more people on your side, Jule."

I frowned at her using my nickname. Steve and Angela were the only ones who called me that, and it was off-putting to hear her say it. I did my best to ignore it. She was right about one thing: talking to my brother, or worse, my father, about anything girl related was useless. "I got friends, though. I got Angela."

"Honey, that doesn't count," she said with a sigh. "You need more adult role models in your life."

"Fine, whatever." I stalked away in defeat, pouting.

"Where do you think you're goin'?" she asked me.

"To Angela's," I lied.

"You ain't goin' nowhere, and I already told you why." She gave me the look, that parental _you-better-not-argue-with-me-now_ look, the same one she gave Shannon on a near daily basis.

I walked up to the door and put my hand on the knob. "I am," I insisted.

"Julia." Somehow her voice was still calm, and that floored me. "I ain't changing my mind, but I'm warning you now… If you don't change your attitude fast, you're gonna be in trouble."

"What attitude?"

"_That_ attitude," she said. "I'm this close punishing you. I swear on all that's holy you've been giving me hell all day, and I don't appreciate it."

"Then go ahead and punish me," I dared her. "Tell me how long I'm grounded this time." It came out snider than I meant. Of course, I meant for it to sound smart, but I didn't want to be this cold.

She propped her hands on her hips, and her eyebrows knitted together. "I mean it, Julia. You're on your last warning."

I watched her for a moment, trying to figure if she really meant it or if she was just playing me like she had the other times. She'd ground me, and then apologize for overstepping her boundaries again, so I felt justified in not believing her. "Well, I'm sorry," I mumbled, but I wasn't sorry at all.

"Go to your room," she told me, pointing to my door. "You can sit in there 'til you're ready to talk decent again, an' then maybe we can finish this conversation without goin' at each other's throats."

I drug my feet against the carpet and almost made it the entire length, but there was too much fire brewing inside me yet, and I had to let some of it out. I whipped back around and glared at her. "You know what, Carol?"

She folded her arms and tilted her chin up. "What?"

I blushed bright red, and my stomach tried to jump out of my throat. I was an idiot. Honest, I had no clue what I planned to say. Something insulting, I presumed, but if I didn't know what, what was the point? And now it was too late to take it back. I'd already dug my hole, and my pride wouldn't let me back down. I could either go out with a bang or be burned alive, so I flipped her the bird.

But I didn't _just_ flip her off. No, I cranked my middle finger up as slowly and deliberately as a person possibly could. It was hardly an original gesture. I'd watched Steve do it in the same manner to Aunt Rita once, and Angela had done it to multiple people. Usually her brother, Tim, but her flipping him off wasn't as severe as what I'd done. They insulted each other so much in that household, common insults had lost all meaning—it was practically the Shepard way of saying "I love you"—but Carol was anything but delighted by my display.

"That's it," she said, coming towards me.

As soon as she grabbed my arm and marched me back to the living room, I knew what was gonna happen, and yet, despite all previous resistance, I didn't fight her. I guess, I knew our argument was pointless, but that didn't mean I didn't resent her for her actions. I buried my face into the couch cushions and tried to endure the punishment as silently as possible, which wasn't too hard. I'd admit it stung a little, but compared to getting licked by my father, compared to the times he'd used his belt, it was a mild inconvenience, and Carol didn't have it in her to go to that extreme.

When she was finished, she stood me back to my feet and shook her head at me. "You can't say I didn't warn you" was all she said, and her disappointment hit me hard. I wasn't sure when it happened, but all of sudden, it meant something to me. The way she looked at me made it worse. I swallowed and told myself to just walk away, but I couldn't.

At the height of my embarrassment, in an effort to preserve my pride, I sneered, "That all you got?"

Within seconds, I found myself pinned against her thigh again.

I winced and gasped, overwhelmed by her newfound strength. By the time she let me back up, I was on the verge of real tears, but it was more the humiliation than the pain. Still shocked she'd actually hit me, I swayed a little as I inched away from her.

She wiped the sweat off her brow and the tears off her cheeks and told me very sternly to go to my room.

I hesitated. Not because I wanted to disobey her, but because wanted to apologize and the right words weren't there. They were muddled by the conflicting emotions surging through me. I was mortified. I was ashamed. I was pissed off. At her, at myself, at _everyone_. I was all of these things and other things I couldn't pick out in complicated mess of thoughts, and it was a good thing I said nothing.

Her patience was gone. She was already chalking up my hesitation to my "attitude." When I didn't move fast enough, she smacked me one more time, the hardest she'd struck me yet, and pointed to my door.

I went without a word.

xxxx

I got my wish of peace and quiet. She didn't bug me for a whole hour, and it was beautiful. We might've avoided fighting altogether if she'd just left me alone in the first place, but it surprised me how fast I got over it. I mean, I was mad as heck she hit me, but with the way I'd talked back to her, I figured we could call it even. We could acknowledge our mistakes and move on. She shouldn't have hit me, I shouldn't have yelled at her, but apparently it wasn't that simple.

When she came into my room to talk to me, she wasn't as apologetic as I'd hoped. I apologized to her, but the only apology I got was, "I'm sorry it had to come to this."

I frowned, and she held her ground. "I had to do something, an' you'd have kept pushing until I did."

"You could've just grounded me instead," I told her, trying to mask my contempt.

"I probably should've," she agreed.

I looked at her for a moment. Her eyes kind and nonthreatening, and when she hugged me, I hugged her back and decided I could forgive her.

"You know when Dad's coming home?" I asked, pulling away from her.

"Probably not for a few more days. He's still in rough shape."

"God, I'm hacked at him," I griped. "He didn't need to do that. He could've found better ways to get money. Like actually going to work."

The expression on her face told me I'd let too much information slip. "Sorry," I apologized promptly. "He, uh, let a few things slip when they some him some morphine."

She looked confused and embarrassed.

"I know about your ex," I added reluctantly. "That you're still trying to divorce him."

She lost all color in her face and nodded.

God, I shouldn't have said a damn thing, but I furious with my father. He'd made everything worse for her, and I wanted her to know I wasn't okay with that. We sat in silence for several seconds, and her anguish chipped away at me. It wasn't obvious, she hid it well, but everything had taken a toll on her. Not just with her ex either. With Charlie. And me and Steve.

"I'm sorry I've been such a brat to you," I told, hoping I sounded earnest enough. "And I'm sorry my dad's so lousy. You deserve better than him." It pained me to say it, because I was really starting to appreciate her, and that implied that I thought she should move on and leave him. Leave us. It was true, though. She _did_ deserve better.

She sighed and patted my arm. "The thing you have to remember about your father is that his heart is always in the right place. He loves you guys so much, and Shannon too. He hardly knew her a couple months ago, and he's been great to her."

"But what about you?" I asked her.

"Oh, he cares about me too," she assured me. "He may not make the greatest choices at times, but he's still a good person. He's a good man, Julia."

I bit down on my lip and nodded, but I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

If my father was her idea of "a good man," that was ... well, it was just sad.

"This'll probably be a wake up call to him," she said.

"I guess so," I agreed half-heartedly.


	28. Chapter 28

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

Carol spent an eternity on the phone.

After an hour passed, I began to worry.

I tiptoed to the kitchen to figure out what was going on. All I gathered was the voice on the other end was male, and he sounded upset.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

She simply pointed a finger down the hallway.

"Is Dad okay?"

"Excuse me." She pulled the phone away from her ear and lowered her eyebrows. "This is an adult conversation, Julia." She shooed me away, brushing me off as though I were Shannon, nothing more than a pest vying for attention, and didn't let me return until supper. Not even to grab a glass a water.

"What's wrong with Dad?"

"Nothin', he's fine." She set a bowl of chicken noodle soup in front of me. "Now eat your dinner."

"Why were you on the phone so long then?"

"It ain't about Charlie, I promise."

I stared at the soup. We weren't sick, so Campbell's must've been all there was in the pantry. I stirred the noodles around the bowl for a minute or two, trying to find the will to eat it. It was a meal, and that counted for something when Angela's brothers had to steal food to their family fed, but it wasn't strong enough to move my appetite.

I heard Carol sigh and looked up. "I'm not trying to be rude, okay?"

It was ironic, proving I wasn't rude by saying something rude, but maybe it wasn't ironic at all. My English teacher liked to talk about irony, but when it came to school lately, I hadn't absorbed an ounce of information except that I now understand why Angela wanted to drop out. I only knew the word because I'd heard my brother use it before. He said Dad was ironic, whatever he meant by that.

"Damn it, Julia, I don't understand you." Carol leaned forward, glaring. "You're such a mature young woman, and yet you insist on acting like a brat at the worst times. Why is that? What're you trying to prove actin' like this? I'm sick of it, and the rest of the world is too."

Her words buzzed past me. "You okay?"

She fell back against her seat and groaned."Oh, God." She pressed her palms against her forehead and slid her fingers through her hair. "You ain't a brat. You're just upset about your father is all."

"You're actin' awfully strange."

"If that's why you don't wanna eat, that's fine, but please quit doing this." She gestured at me wildly as though I was supposed to know what she meant. "Whatever the hell this is."

"I'm not doing anything." My voice cracked under the stress. "You're not even giving me a chance. I just asked you if you were okay, 'cause you seem upset."

"I'm fine, and I've given you plenty chances." She not only got louder, but her tone got tight and screechy, like didn't want to yell again but couldn't reel her anger back in fast enough. "Eat your soup and keep your mouth shut," she ordered, pointing to the bowl. "You're twelve years old. For heaven sakes, I shouldn't have to tell you to stop playing with your food."

I watched her as close as she watched me. She sat on the edge of her seat, and I fidgeted like an ant about to be crushed by someone's boot.

"You oughta be grateful there is a meal in front of you."

I picked up my spoon. Steve had said worse, my father worse yet, but this wasn't Carol.

I choked on the first bite I tried to swallow and shoved the bowl aside.

"I don't wanna hear another word about how unfair I am."

"But I didn't say a damn thing!" I sat as still as I could, holding my breath and gasping for air seconds later because I couldn't inhale deep enough. I prayed Steve would get home soon.

I stopped feeling sorry for myself when I heard Carol's muffled crying and realized she was worse off than me. "Carol, what's wrong?"

"You're right. You're absolutely right." She scooted her chair closer to mine and squeezed my shoulder. "It's me, honey. It's all me. Gosh, I'm so sorry for breaking down like this. I'll be fine, I promise."

"I'm sorry too." I wasn't sure I meant it, but I felt obligated to say it. "Like I already said, I was kinda a twerp to you all afternoon. I guess, I just wanted to be alone or something."

"Oh, Julia, why didn't you just tell me that's what you wanted?" She held her hands up and stared upward as if it was the solution she'd wanted this entire time. "I can't know if you don't tell me. I'd have left you alone. Honest, I would've. I didn't know _what _the heck you wanted. Thought you was actin' up for attention or somethin', but I thought wrong. "

"Well, it wasn't." Hadn't Steve told her so when he mentioned our aunt? He'd called me _sensitive_, which was detestable in its own right, but I'd take sensitive over attention-seeking any day. "How long's Shannon gonna stay with your cousin?" I asked, bouncing my legs to quell my frustration. "She gonna be back soon?"

"You miss her already?"

At last, she smiled.

"Maybe," I admitted.

"Didn't I tell you she was only there for a sleepover?" Carol asked. "Bonnie has a daughter about her age, an' I figured it might do her some good after last night."

"I'd rather it not be forever."

"Be careful what you wish for." She winked. "She won't be gone for long. Why're you so worried about it?"

"I was awfully mean to her when Dad was unconscious," I said with a shrug. "I yelled at her. She's probably still sore at me."

"If she was, she's already forgotten."

"You sure?"

"Positive. All she wanted to talk about was how scared she was about your dad."

"She _was_ pretty scared," I thought aloud.

"Oh, and Steve's friend," Carol remembered. "That kid with the funny name."

"Two-Bit?"

"Yeah, him," Carol affirmed. "What a weird name, but she sure adored him. Asked me to adopt him."

"You're jokin'."

"Nope, she pitched one hell of a fit when I told her I couldn't."

I grinned. "Guess she's not _too_ mad at me then."

"And so what if she is," Carol said, much to my shock. "You didn't mean to be mean, did you?"

My gut reaction was no, but if I sat and thought about it...

"It ain't like sisters are known to be nice to each other. You should've seen me with my little sister."

"You got a little sister?"

She nodded. "I sure do, and I was downright awful to her sometimes."

Somehow, I doubted Carol had ever been "downright awful" to anybody. If the past couple hours were the meanest she could be to somebody, she was the kindest person I knew. "Where's your sister now?"

"No clue." Her eyes widened, and she folded her arms rigidly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't—"

"No, no, it's fine." She straightened herself out and forced a smile. "I'm your stepmom," she insisted. "You hardly know me, so it's only fair I should be able to answer a few questions."

I tightened my lips and nodded. My curiosity was rampant as usual, but the situation gave me a horrid vibe.

"Barb ran off and married some guy when she was sixteen," she explained. "Figured she must've had his kid, but none of us know why. That was the last I heard from her. Then again, I ain't seen much my family in years."

"Why not?"

"Oh, you know, families just drift apart sometimes," she said, almost cheerfully. "It's nice Bonnie lives is these parts. She was like a big sister to me when we were kids. Did I ever tell you that?"

It was possible she had, but I didn't remember. I hadn't bothered to pay attention to her until now. "No."

"Well, my brother and I lived with her parents for a couple years. Kind of like you and Steve lived with your aunt."

I raised an eyebrow. "But not your sister?"

"She lived with our grandmother, and that was for the best. She was a handful and our aunt and uncle had four kids of their own."

"What happened to your parents?"

"Oh, they were still alive."

"But why couldn't they take care of you?"

"Things were difficult for a lot of families when the depression hit." She talked as plainly as you'd recite something out of a history book. "My father lost everything. His farm. His money. Everyone was poor as dirt, and they could barely support themselves. Lost two babies before they had me too."

"Are you the oldest?"

"Yes."

"It must've been especially rough for you then."

"It was rough for _every_one," she corrected me. "When the war broke out, my father found a job in the army, and my mom worked every odds and ends job she could find. She couldn't support us on her own but sent money to her family for looking after us, and she had to work even harder when he came back."

"Why?"

"He couldn't work."

My eyes widened. "Was he injured?"

She shook her head and hesitated. "He'd ... seen things."

_What kinds of things? Where'd they send him? Europe? Japan? Did he fight in any other wars?_ Hearing her talk about her family made her seem like less of a stranger. There was so much I wanted to know.

"When's Shannon gonna be home?" I asked again, knowing it'd lift her discomfort.

"Soon," she replied.

Whenever she talked about her daughter, her face lit up. She loved her more than anything, like a parent _should_ love their child, and I was jealous. She loved Shannon more than me. It was unrealistic to expect otherwise. Shannon was her daughter, her blood, and I was just her boyfriend's moody teenage—well, almost teenage—kid, but a part of me hoped I was wrong.

"I planned to pick her up in a half hour," Carol added. "Figured she could eat her supper there..."

'_Cause we got nothing but a lousy soup can in the pantry_, I finished, but maybe she was looking out for me too. She knew the soup only served two.

"Good," I whispered. "I thought it was us. How crazy we are, I mean."

"What in the world are you talking about?"

"Everything's shit in this house. No wonder you don't want her around it."

"Julia, listen..."

"If _I _were a mom, I wouldn't want my kid around it either."

Her lips curled into her mouth, and she mumbled, "No, Jule, please don't think that. That ain't it at all."

"We're putting you out, aren't we?"

"What makes you say that?"

"You don't seem happy here."

She hesitated.

"You can tell me Charlie's a screw up if you want," I said.

"You shouldn't talk about your father that way."

"Ain't like I don't know, so how can I be mad?" I looked her in the eye sincerely. "You can say whatever you want about him, an' I won't be the slightest bit upset, so don't defend him just 'cause I'm his kid."

"You _shouldn't_ talk about him that way," she repeated, squinting at me. "That's awfully disrespectful."

"Why not?" I demanded. "He never cares about respecting me."

"He's your father."

I thought my head was gonna explode. "So you're tellin' me I should respect him for that alone? 'Cause I got half his genes?"

She stared past my shoulder, eyes blank, face devoid of any emotion.

"It ain't right," I cried. She'd been through hell with her family, hell with her ex, and nothing had changed with us.

"He tries real hard," she said with sudden urgency. "Whether you realize it or not, he does a lot for this family. He _tries_, Julia. He tries."

"No, you do a lot for this family." I stood up and shook a fist at her. "Steve does a lot for this family. Charlie don't do shit, 'cept make everything worse."

"That's an awful strong accusation, Julia. You better be sure you mean it if you're gonna say things like that."

"You bet your ass I mean it."

"You might regret your words later," she said distantly.

I stomped my foot down, refusing to believe it. "I won't regret it one bit, and you know why? 'Cause it's the goddamned truth."

She wiped a tear off her cheek.

"Ain't you sick of it too?" I pressed on.

"Yes." She rubbed her forehead and shielded her eyes with her hands. "You better believe I am. You better believe I'm madder than heck, but he took me an' your sister in when he didn't have to."

"Don't mean you have to put up with his bullshit."

"Julia..."

"Just 'cause he's better than your last don't mean you have to put up with it." I locked my hands at my sides and breathed deeply to calm myself. These were adult issues, and here I was talking like I was forty years old and had all the wisdom in the world. I didn't. I didn't even pretend to, like Steve might, but her situation me ill inside.

"I'm just sayin' you deserve better than us," I told her, and it was the last thing I would say. "You deserve better than us."

"Don't say that." She stood up and grabbed my shoulders. "There's nothing wrong with you."

"But my family," I said, pushing her hands away, "can you say the same about them?"

Afraid I'd done more harm than good, I tried to slip away unnoticed. Maybe she needed a chance to save face before she could admit I was right, or maybe she'd never see it at all, but I needed to step away before I lost my cool and made it worse.

"I meant what I said about your father being a good man, Julia." She caught and held onto my wrist. "I ain't denying he's got problems. Hundreds of 'em. Thousands of 'em. He's just one giant mess of a person, really, but he _always_ means well."

I shook my head. "You don't know him like I do then."

"Even when he's acting like a giant jerk, he means well," she endured, "and there aren't many people like that in the world."

"And I meant what I said too. Charlie ... he's gonna hurt you."

"I'mma pick up Shannon," she announced and released my wrist abruptly. "Bonnie lives a fair ways out, so I best get going. You wanna come with or stay here?"

"Stay."

She sighed in relief, but offered again. "You sure?"

"Yeah."

She fumbled with her keys and cursed under her breath as she looked for her coat.

I watched as she searched and searched. I knew where it was, but wanted to let her keep her dignity.

"It's behind the chair in the living room," I said, pointing to it on the floor. After a minute, it'd grown too painful to watch.

She thanked me profusely and shuffled out the door, forgetting to shut it behind her.

I shut it for her and retreated to the couch.

Something hard poked me. I tossed and turned until I found the a flask stashed between the cushions. Dad must've been drunk when he put it there, because he hadn't stuffed deep enough to go unnoticed.

With no one to hear me but the empty house, I cussed his name and chucked it at the ground hard enough to shatter glass. I kicked it across the room and hollered every insult my brain could imagine until I'd screamed myself hoarse.

I panted and stared at the dull steel. Even as the only witness to my fit, I was embarrassed, but what upset me worse was there was nothing to show for my tantrum. No dent in the flask. No hole in the wall where I'd kicked it. Not even a nick or a scratch.

I fell to my knees, picked it up, and shook it to see how empty it was. A little over half.

Clutching it in hand, I backed myself up to the nearest wall. The longer I held the metal, the colder it felt.

Compelled by a mindless urge, I opened it and put it up to my lips. The nauseating smell overpowered my senses and repulsed me, but I still tossed back what was left, which ended up far more than my ears had estimated.

Or maybe it was just the way it burned on the way down that made me feel as though I'd chugged an entire bottle. I spat back what I could into the flask, but it was too late. The consequences that should've been apparent seconds ago were vivid now. I told myself it was the alcohol and not my nerves.

It was easier to blame your emotions on something than to accept they came from deep inside you.

I used the final moments of clarity to dream up a reason why I did it. There was no reason, no real one at least, but I imagined I wanted to see why it was so great. I wanted to know firsthand how it made others _feel_. The small taste of liquor I'd experienced at the party Angela drug me to months ago wasn't enough for me.

But the worst part was, when the real effects set in, when I was positive it was the booze and not my nerves, I couldn't describe a damn thing.

Everything was fuzzy and dull.

That was it.

Fuzzy and dull.

xxxx

Steve walked in, and I was still on the floor, clutching my gut. I had no idea how long it'd been since I drank whatever was in that flask, but I pulled myself upright as best I could and smiled at my brother. "Get your piece of shit car fixed up?"

"Yeah, thanks to Soda," he grumbled. "Ain't as dumb as he thinks he is. Figured it out right away, even before I did."

I hiccuped and grinned an obnoxious, ear to ear grin. "You really jus' admit that?"

"Shut up."

"Make me."

"You do anything exciting today besides lounging around like a lazy bum?"

Feeling invincible, I shook my head. I wasn't sloshed. At least not enough he could see it.

He stooped down and looked me straight in the eye. "Anything you wanna confess to?"

"No." I glanced away.

He hooked a finger under my chin and forced me to look at him. "You sure about that?"

My stomach somersaulted. "I think I'm gonna be sick." I bolted for the bathroom and tripped over my feet just outside the door.

Steve caught up to me and grabbed my arm.

"I'm sick," I told him as he yanked me up. "I-I-I'm sick." Why were my thoughts clear and my words jumbled? Never mind, neither were clear.

"You ain't sick, you're drunk." His fingers pinched and hurt me as he drug me to the toilet. At least he held my hair back while I dry heaved and puked, but he wasn't gentle about it. It was like he was trying to rip the strands out of my scalp one by one.

"Why?" I demanded, bursting into tears. The shame had caught up to me, and I dry heaved again.

"Why?" he demanded right back. "I think that's what you better fucking tell me!"

"I dunno."

He let go of my hair and stood up.

"What're you doin'?" I asked him, panicked.

He wetted a washcloth and whipped it at me. "The hell's wrong with you?"

I covered my eyes and let it hit me.

I flinched when he lunged forward, but he only picked up the washcloth and wiped the corners of my mouth for me.

"You hate me?" I asked.

"I ain't gonna answer that."

"It's 'cause you do," I bawled.

"No, it's 'cause I don't, an' I think it's crazy you'd even think that."

"I'm so stupid, Steve. I'm the stupidest _ever_."

"That don't even sound right," he told me. "Do us both a favor, and shut up before you embarrass yourself more."

I sniffled and stared at him. "Sure you don't hate me?"

"Christ, you really are gone," he breathed.

"You do?"

"No."

"Why ain't you yellin' at me yet? Why're you bein' so nice?"

"Don't be so sure I'm nice," he spat. "Maybe I wanna yell at you when your head's pounding in the morning, when you'll actually remember it."

"I'll remember it now," I tried to assure him, bursting into tears again. "I will, I will. I _promise_. I didn't do it on purpose. Oh God, what's happenin' to me? I'm so scared, Steve. I can't—"

"How much did you have?"

"I don't even know. Please don't hate me."

"For the last time, I don't hate you."

"But I'm a screw up," I wailed. "You oughta hate me."

"I'll only hate you if you don't explain yourself, so spill it."

"I wanted to know what it feels like when Dad does it," I admitted. "Why does he do it so much? I don't even like it. I feel terrible..."

Steve's face reddened, and his jaw tightened.

I curled myself into a tiny ball and avoided all eye contact.

"Shit, I don't hate you." He pried my arms away from my knees and gripped my shoulders. "I wouldn't hate you even if you didn't explain yourself."

"Promise?"

"Promise. Now look at me, Jule." He brushed my hair behind my ears and cupped my cheeks in his hands. "You made a bad choice, but you ain't a screw up. Charlie's the screw up, not you, you got that?"

I bit my lip and nodded.

"You're gonna be okay," he reassured me. "You probably feel drunker than you are, 'cause you feel bad. You eat anything tonight?"

I shook my head.

"Well, there's another reason right there," he continued. "You drink on an empty stomach, and you're bound to get burned. 'Specially with skinny you are. You better remember that or I'll skin you alive."

"Okay," I mumbled.

"I promise you'll be fine, though," he said. "Worst thing you get to look forward to is a pounding head and a queasy stomach tomorrow."

"Maybe I can stay home from school," I hoped.

"No," he told me firmly. "You'll hate me for it, but you ain't skipping. Consider that your punishment."

The way he looked at me told me he meant it. I about lost it again, overwhelmed by the thought of how awful it was gonna be, but I guess it was fair. Compared to the million ways he could've reacted, this was best case scenario.

He put an arm around me and let me lean against his shoulder. I blushed and asked him if he still loved me. I was mortified to ask, but I needed to hear his answer, even if it was his usual offhanded reply.

"Don't ask stupid questions," he hissed, wrapping his other around around me.

I took it as a yes.


	29. Chapter 29

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

* * *

_Monday, January 23rd, 1967_

Steve flicked the light on and opened my curtains all the way.

I shoved a pillow over my head and thought about the various ways I could kill him as he yanked the covers off me and pulled me to my feet.

"You act like a giant baby when you're hungover," I accused, unsure if was true or not. If he was hungover, he rarely let on he was. Dad, on the other hand …

"Bitch at me all you want, but you're still going to school. Get dressed." He stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

I wanted to ask him why he opened the curtains then. Did he want the entire neighborhood to watch me dress? But I knew the answer. He hadn't considered it; no, opening the curtains was a cruel, last minute effort to make my headache as miserable as possible.

As I pulled the curtains shut, I realized calling them curtains was generous. They looked more like tattered dishrags in an ugly shade of green, and I wished for two seconds that Rosie was still my stepmom, because anything that looked half-assedly decent around here was her doing. Carol kept things cleaner. Maybe not as clean as Aunt Rita, but like Aunt Rita, she was too practical to waste money on the things Rosie did. Unfortunately, that included new window treatments.

I stepped away from the window and pieced through my clothes scattered across the floor. There were piles upon piles, a mix of my things and Shannon's, and I tossed toys and garments in every which direction. Usually, I put effort into what I wore, but not today. Today, I had one goal—find something clean and hope it matched. All my clothes screamed what part of Tulsa I was from anyway, so it didn't matter what it looked like as long as it didn't smell. I could handle looking poor, but I _refused_ to be the smelly kid.

"You done?" I heard Steve outside my door.

I zipped up my dress, threw a cardigan over it, and pushed the door open.

"You might wanna run a brush through your hair," he said.

I glared at him. "What do you care what my hair looks like?"

"I don't give a damn, but don't come crying to me when some snot-nosed bitch makes a hurtful comment about it…" He pulled me towards the bathroom. "Save us both the aggravation. Please."

Once I stood in the front of a mirror, I was grateful for his brutally honest advice, but mostly I was glad he'd left me alone. Now, I could commiserate in peace.

My hair was worse than the curtains. There were too many knots and snarls, and each time I forced the brush down, it felt like angry cats were scratching my scalp raw. On top of the pulsating head, it was excruciating.

I saw Steve out of the corner of my eye and set the brush down. "Can I please just stay home? It ain't gonna look nice 'til I wash it, and it's too cold to go to school with a wet head."

"Just pull it up," he suggested. "Evie does it all the time. She's got curly hair like yours, and it looks fine."

I took a deep breath and attempted to do just that, but somehow maneuvered the brush in such a way it got stuck in a large snarl. "Shit."

He stifled a laugh. "How the hell did to you that?"

"It ain't funny. Where's Carol? She still sleeping?"

"I dunno. She ain't here."

"She and Shannon were supposed to come home last night."

"Trust me, if Shannon was here, we'd hear her."

That was accurate. "Did they come home at all?"

"No," he said.

"Maybe they're staying the night at her cousin's again?" I hoped.

"They probably are." He stepped forward and started untangling the brush from my hair. "Don't think about it too much."

I cringed as he yanked and pulled. He was gentler than I expected, but it still hurt. "God, I hate my hair so much."

"How 'bout I go grab a pair of scissors then? We'll cut out the brush and maybe the rest of your hair while we're at it. Problem solved."

I let out a tiny huff and elbowed him in the gut. "Problem _not_ solved."

"Christ, I was kidding." He tugged harder on purpose, but let up a second later. "Elbow me again, though, and I just might."

"It ain't funny, Steve. You're a guy, so you don't get it. You don't have to deal with these kinds of problems, and you'll _never_ understand how hard it is."

Just then he got the brush free and held it in front of me, smirking. "That terrible, huh?"

I took the brush from him and whapped his arm with it. "If you think it's so easy, try styling it without getting it stuck again."

"Fine, I will."

I rolled my eyes. "You're joking."

"No, I'm dead serious." He ripped the brush from my fingers. "If that's what it takes to prove to you your life ain't that bad, you're on… Hell, I'll even make you a bet. If I can't, you don't have to go to school."

"Okay," I happily agreed, confident he couldn't, but if I'd thought a moment longer, I'd have realized two things—one, he cared enough about _his _hair to spend massive amounts of time combing it; two, he never backed down from a challenge.

"Will you quit your bitching now?" he asked me as soon as he was done.

I turned from side to side, trying to find something wrong with it. I pivoted around and frowned. Nope, it looked fine. Nothing fancy. He'd never be able to operate a curling iron with any dexterity, but he'd managed to pull it up with a couple ribbons to keep it in place.

I didn't know whether I should thank him or punch him. He'd done me a favor, but it was only to prove me wrong.

He pushed out of the bathroom before I got a chance to do either and drug me to kitchen. "We're running late, so you better eat fast. There ain't much for breakfast unfortunately, but—"

"I'm not that hungry anyway."

He poured a glass of orange juice for me, all that was left of it. "At least drink this, so you don't faint or something."

He handed me a pill with the glass.

I rolled it between my fingers. "What is it?"

"Aspirin."

I tilted my head. "You mean you're gonna let me take it?"

"I handed it to you, didn't I?"

"I'm just surprised is all."

"Let's get something straight here. Just 'cause I'm making you go to school don't mean I'm heartless. I'm sure your heart's beating harder in your head than your chest, so go ahead and take it, damn it."

I swallowed the pill and downed the rest of the orange juice without complaint. Crabby as I was, I realized for the first time since last night he was unusually understanding about this. "Steve, I'm sorry." I couldn't look in the eye. "About last night—"

"We'll talk about it more later."

He didn't sound mad, but his words still left me queasy.

I tried not to think about it.

xxxx

"Where's Annika?" Rachel wondered aloud at lunch.

She pronounced her name wrong again, but I didn't bother correcting her.

"You think maybe she was sick like me?"

"I dunno, Rachel," I said. Rachel was the last person who needed to hear my suspicion about Annika's brother.

"Excuse me? Who?" Angela asked.

"The new girl," Rachel informed her. "Oh, wait, I'm sorry, you probably haven't met her yet, 'cause you ain't been here in forever. Were you sick too?"

Angela snorted. "Something like that, yeah."

When Rachel was looking in the opposite direction, Angela whispered she'd tell me more about it after lunch.

I didn't let on how much the thought exhausted me, but it did. Not only did her assumption I'd skip class with her piss me off, it was one more thing to worry about, one more thing to dwell on while I struggled to pay attention. All morning there were two things on my mind: where Carol was and what Steve would say when we talked about last night. It was strange she didn't come home, and maybe it was something in the weather because there was something odd about Angela, too. Her shoulders were slumped forward, and aside from the occasional snide remark to Rachel, she kept to herself.

My gut told me something was wrong. It concerned me enough I walked straight out of the building with her, thinking only about her and not the trouble I'd get in for skipping again.

As we stood in the cold, a good block or two away from the school, I guarded my pockets. I wanted to trust that she wouldn't slip anything in them again, but I'd vowed to careful. If nothing more, I didn't want to disappoint Steve again; he _had_ been exceptionally nice about last night, but I had a feeling I'd be walking on thin ice for a long time.

Angela smoked two cigarettes right down to the filter before we exchanged a single word.

"You okay?" I asked her.

"I can't even," was all she got out.

She collapsed to her knees and flopped down on the sidewalk.

"You feel sick or something?" I crouched down and grabbed her hand.

"No," she sobbed.

"Shit, we can't just sit around out here."

I tugged on her arm and I started dragging her home because I didn't know where else to take her.

"You got a key?" There were no cars in the driveway, and the house was locked.

"I don't know." She handed her purse to me freely.

I took it from her and started rummaging through it.

She had a lot of stuff in there. I expected to find a bottle of pills or a bag of grass, but the only suspicious items I found were a large wad of cash and a switchblade she probably stole from one of her brothers. "Where'd you get all this money?"

She didn't answer.

Once I found the key, I opened the door and called out to make sure no one was home. Curly, we could deal with, but anyone else, we were screwed.

She hauled her feet up the stairs.

"Angel, what's wrong?" I asked as I chased her to room.

She collapsed onto the bed, and I crawled up beside her. "You're scaring me."

Tears streamed down her face along with her mascara. "Everything."

"Are you … pregnant again?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes, I'm fucking sure."

"Sorry, I shouldn't have— "

"No, I'm sorry," she interrupted promptly, sobbing harder. "God, I'm so awful to you. Why're we even friends? I'm a terrible person."

"Because we've always been." I scooted closer to her and rubbed her back as she continued to fall apart. "Shit, we always will be."

She shook her head and insisted the same. I tried again and again to reason with her, telling her that maybe she'd done some terrible things, but that didn't automatically make her a terrible person. She didn't believe me, so I gave up.

"I sold everything I had," she mumbled after a long period of silence. "You asked me where I got the money. I sold all the pills."

"Your mom's pills?"

"Yeah."

"To who?"

"A couple Soc girls who wanna lose weight."

I had no idea it made people lose weight, but I didn't question it.

"I never even took 'em myself," she choked out. "Earl don't like Ma takin' pills, so I snatched them before he'd see it and decided I might as well sell them. I wasn't gonna at first. At least I don't think I was, but then Curly assumed I was gonna, and I just … I just did it."

"How'd your mom even get them in the first place?"

"You mean how'd we afford it?"

It didn't mean for it to turn into that question, but yes, it had crossed my mind.

"Every now and then my grandpa feels bad he left his family and throws money at us out of pity," she said, face flushing. "When he heard she wasn't doin' good, he decided she needed to see a doctor. He paid for it, and Earl wasn't happy about that."

"But you were trying to protect your mom, weren't you? I mean, you didn't want Earl to see the pills..."

"I dunno, that's just one thing where … Hell, I dunno."

I pressed on my temples. She made no sense. "What do you mean one thing?"

She rattled off some more things. She didn't outright say what happened. I wondered if that was because she didn't remember very well or claimed she didn't, but I gathered these were all things she'd done, things she now regretted.

"I wasn't myself."

She said that over and over again.

I asked her what she meant by it, if it was like _Invasion of the Body Snatchers_ or something crazy like that, but she denied it: "I _was_ me, but I wasn't _me_."

"Maybe it doesn't have to be such a bad thing," I told her. "I mean, it's just your conscience kicking in, right? You're only human."

She wiped mascara off her cheek. "Maybe."

"You are too human, and I'm glad you told me," I continued. "I thought you liked doing some of those things, and I'm sorry for assuming that. Man, I was so wrong…"

"But that's the thing." She sighed and pulled herself back up. "I _did_ like it. I did."

If she liked it, why was she bawling her eyes out over it now?

I didn't argue with her, though. I just looped an arm around her shoulder and sat with her until we were no longer the only ones home.

Curly kicked her door open and damn near gave her a heart attack.

"Well, would you look who else is skippin'?"

She charged at him and slapped him across the face. "Asshole," she grumbled. "I thought you were Earl."

Angela ran to the bathroom. Curly looked at me, completely dumbfounded, and called out, "Angela, what the fuck did I do?"

"Go to hell," she shrieked.

"Is she on the rag or something?" he asked me, scratching the side of his head. "Did Bryon finally break up with her for good?

I felt like slapping him myself. "God, this ain't a joke. I ain't ever seen her this upset."

"What happened?"

I sucked in a breath and shook my head. "I think you should talk to her herself and _really_ listen to her. No smartass comments. No yelling. Just listen."

"How 'bout you tell me?" He raised an eyebrow. "That's easier. Saves me the aggravation."

"She feels bad about shit she's done," I replied with a sigh. "And that's all I'm telling you. Go talk to her yourself."

The dumbfounded expression returned. He shuffled over to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Look, Angie, I'm sorry I'm asshole," he breathed. "It's Tim's fault."

Angela didn't take kindly to that. She emerged and slapped him again. "Tim's locked up, you dumbshit. How can it be his fault?"

He gritted his teeth and rubbed his cheek. "Damn it, Angela, I'm just tryin' to lighten the mood. We _always_ blame Tim. Always. I thought that was our motto." He stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "What's goin' on?"

He looked back at me and waved his hand for me to leave. I remained where I stood, unsure if I should leave, unsure if he'd even be able to carry out a serious conversation with her, but he was trying. I noticed that, and she wasn't shoving him away.

Before I left I walked up to her and told her she could call me or come over any time she needed to.

She nodded like she understood.

She wasn't crying anymore. She hadn't cried at all since Curly showed up, and that concerned me, but at least I wasn't leaving her by herself.

xxxx

"Take this home, and get it signed," Mrs. Phillips instructed me just before the bell rang. At least I think that was her name. It was sad I didn't know for sure, but she'd replaced Mrs. Fox in my schedule, so we hadn't known each other very long.

I stared at the list. It was every missing assignment from her class and every date I'd miss.

"I want your parents to know what you're missing and how much you've been missing," she added. "Bring it back tomorrow."

I nodded.

When the bell rang, I raced out of the classroom. School was over, but as I walked home, my mind still felt like it was there. I'd barely made it back in time for my last class, and I thought about talking to the two teachers whose classes I'd missed, but the thought scared me too much.

Maybe if I was lucky, they wouldn't notice.

xxxx

Steve pushed a loaf of bread, a jar of peanut butter, and a box of cereal in front of me. "I know it's a shitty supper, but this is all there is."

The cereal seemed out of place, but maybe he was mad the peanut butter wasn't crunchy and decided to add something extra to his sandwich. We used to argue about that sometimes, whether peanut butter oughta be crunchy or smooth.

"I think I'll just eat the Cheerios," I told him, swallowing the acidy taste that had crept up the back of my throat. Even though my headache had faded, strong smells made me nauseous. I swore could smell the peanuts before he opened the jar.

"You sure? They're stale and we ain't got milk."

"That's fine." I grabbed the box and dug out a small amount. "I'll eat 'em plain."

"I get paid in a couple days, but until then—"

"You _really _shouldn't have to buy us food, Steve."

"Well, I already did." He pointed to the peanut butter and the bread. "Figure we can make a few sandwiches out of it, tide us over a day or two, but tell me… who's gonna buy the food if I don't?"

"I dunno," I muttered to my feet. "Carol maybe?"

"You don't see her standing here, do you?"

"She's probably staying at her cousin's again. She was gonna pick up Shannon there, and maybe she just decided to stay for a couple days?" I lifted my head and raised an eyebrow, pleading for him to agree with me. "That makes sense, don't it? It's just strange she wouldn't call and tell us. Especially after she was so mad we didn't call to tell her about Charlie. I'm pretty sure she'll be back though."

He rubbed the nape of his neck. "We ain't gonna count on her money until then."

"But, Steve—"

He held up a hand to silence me. "That's the way it's gonna be."

"But what if she becomes our stepmom for real? Can we count on her then?"

He took a breath and blew out his cheeks as he exhaled.

"What? You don't think it's gonna happen?"

"In short, no," he said crisply. "With Charlie's track record, that's wishful thinking at its finest."

"Maybe it's my fault."

"How the hell could it possibly be your fault?"

"I told her she deserved better last night… We kinda had a fight about it. We kinda fought about a lot of things." I crossed an arm over my stomach and grasped my opposite elbow. "She wouldn't leave me alone, so I got kinda mouthy and flipped her the bird..." I decided to leave off the part where she punished me out in case he got upset, but mostly because it embarrassed me. "So yeah… I was kind of a brat, but we were getting along better before she left. We bickered a little bit about Dad, sure, but it wasn't a fight. I was just tellin' her she deserved better and she does—"

"Stop." He tapped my shoulder and shook his head at me. "Before you say another word, we need talk about Carol."

"Did something happen to her?"

"No, and one died, so don't even go there."

I curled my lips together, trembling with fear over what he might tell me. "Then what?"

"She stopped by the DX just before I got off."

"And?"

"And I know you fought with her. Hell, she pretty much told me everything. Told me what you said and how she was thinking about it…"

"So that's it then? She ain't coming back?"

"I don't know." His eyes looked heavy and he started talking real fast. "Said she needed some time to think about things and that she couldn't handle the thought of coming back home last night. Christ, I've seen her upset, but not quite like that. My boss ain't exactly known for having a heart, and even he felt bad for her if that tells you anything. She was so worried about you, though. She felt awful and begged me to talk to you about it. She said she'd have done so herself, but for some reason, she insisted it'd be better if it came from me."

"She was on the phone for an awful long time yesterday…" I swallowed. "You know who she called? You think that has anything to do with this?"

"Her brother probably," he said. "She mentioned talking to him about a few things."

I hugged my arms around myself and just shut down emotionally. I tried to think about everything logically, and nothing made sense. "But I didn't even fight with her about Charlie until just before she left. At least I don't think I did."

I ran through every conversation I'd had with her in my head.

He produced an explanation off the top of his head. Something about how maybe she'd been thinking about it for days, but then hearing me say it made it more real, but I was so deep in thought, his words blew straight past me.

"Wait… After she punished me…" Everything I said was so broken and fragmented. "I apologized for being such a brat … But I apologized for Dad too. At least I think did. Maybe I said it then."

He stood up and balled his fists. "Does it really matter what exactly you said and when exactly you said it?"

"You're right." I hung my head and hugged myself tighter. "I … I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, you absolutely should've," he insisted. "Everything you said was 100% true, so I'll be damned if you beat yourself up about it. That's all I'm saying. It doesn't matter when you said it, 'cause it's _true_. Would you feel better if you lied to her and tried to convince she should be with Charlie?"

"No." I knew he was trying to lesson my guilt by reasoning with me, but all I heard was the yelling, and I was angry too. At him. "When'd you plan to tell me about this?" I sneered, just above a whisper.

He shoved a hand through his hair and sat back down. "Last night, when I got home… Yeah, about last night, maybe we oughta talk about that too while we're at it."

I buried my face in my hands, ashamed I couldn't stay strong, but more ashamed I was selfish. If I had to break down, it should be because I was sad for her, but I was only sad for me. Every part of my day was awful, from waking up to Angela to this.

"Clearly last night wouldn't have been a good time to tell you," he forged on. "And I figured we oughta scratch off today too, since I knew you'd feel so bad about what you did. Christ, as moody as you were, you could hardly look me in the eye this morning, and it wasn't just 'cause you were hungover, so how the hell'm I supposed to tell you this now?" He was almost yelling again. "But I tell you what, If dare think I was trying to keep it from just to keep it from you, I swear … "

I uncovered my face and shook my head. "I don't think that, Steve."

Hunched over with his elbows on his knees, he scrambled to hide his face.

I wiped away the last of my tears on my sleeves and reached out to pat his shoulder.

He got up and walked away. I figured he must've been crying. I couldn't see for sure, but it as the only thing that made sense. If he was, it was the silent kind of crying, not like Angela's body-wracking sobs. Still, I felt like an ass, knowing I'd caused his upset.

"I promise I don't think that," I called out, running after him.

He slammed his bedroom door in my face, and I knew I'd better gave him space, but I couldn't muster the energy to leave. I backed myself up until I hit the hallway wall and flopped down on the floor much like Angela had on the street.

As I sat there, time slowed down. It seemed like he was in there longer than Carol had been on the phone yesterday, but I knew that couldn't be true.

When he finally emerged, he was startled to see me. "Shit," he gasped. "Were you there this entire time?"

I shrugged and mumbled that I hadn't been.

"You were, weren't you?" He extended his hand to help me up. "C'mon, you can't sit there forever."

I slapped his arm away. I wasn't willing to forgive his teasing, _and_ I was self-concious I'd sat here this whole time.

He stooped down and lifted me to my feet effortlessly. My first instinct was to kick his shins and stomp on his toes, but something else popped in my mind and interrupted that thought—the money Carol had given me for watching Shannon.

Why I thought of that, I didn't know. Maybe I didn't want it anymore because I was mad and confused. Nothing was for sure yet. That was the important thing to remember. She stuck with her first husband for a long time, so there was reason to believe she might come back to Dad, but was it selfish to think that?

I shuffled towards my room.

Steve followed close behind, arms folded and eyes narrowed. "What're you doing now?"

I rummaged through my sock drawer until I found the pair of socks I'd stuffed the money in. When I was younger I put every coin of spare change I could find in a jar. For several months, I patiently watched it grow, and then one day every cent was gone. To this day, I had no clue who took it, but I assumed it was Dad, and the part that upset me the most was I'd have given it to him if he asked. I hoped it went to food or an important bill. Even if he'd used it to pay off Steve, I could live with that. Just as long as it wasn't for alcohol. God help me if it went to that, I'd never forgive him. Ever since, I hid money in obscure places.

I handed Steve the small sum I'd accumulated over the last few weeks. It couldn't have been more than few dollars. I'd planned to buy a new outfit with it as soon as I had enough to cover every last item and accessory to go with it. I wanted a complete outfit, so I could look just like a girl out of a magazine, but there were more important things right now.

"Where'd you get this?" he asked.

I explained that it was from Carol for babysitting Shannon and told him we should buy groceries with it or anything else he thought we needed.

"You sure?" he hesitated. "You don't have to do this, Jule. If you were savin' this for something, I think we'll make do okay without it. I mean—"

"But would it help?"

He nodded, still looking uneasy.

"Then I'm sure."

A small smile crept across his lips. "Remind me you did this next time I call you immature."

I felt proud for a second to think he considered me mature, but reality set back in. "It's just gonna be us for a while around here, ain't it?"

He nodded again.

At least there was some comfort in knowing that.


	30. Chapter 30

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

So sorry it took me two weeks to update. I've been all kinds of busy and stressed. Thanks for the reviews and for your patience! This is a shorter chapter, but tons of backstory. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

_Thursday, January 27th, 1967_

The longer I stared at my math homework, the more it taunted me. Soon the x's and y's would arrange themselves into words and scream I was damned to repeat seventh grade, but not before I murdered my brother. "Would you cut it out?"

He kicked his feet onto the coffee table, nearly trampling over my work. "Cut out what?"

"Making fun of me."

"Have I said a damn thing?"

No, but his smirks and suspicious looks painted a good picture of his mind. Every time there was a commercial, he'd glance over my shoulder to see what problem I was on, and it'd been like this since we got home from school.

"Maybe I wanna see if you're doing your homework." He pulled his feet back to the ground and sat up straighter. "I signed all those notes about you, so now I'm playing my part. Keep goin', and you might get it done before supper."

"It was one note," I pointed out. "Mrs. Philips gave it to me Monday. It's Thursday now and I already did everything for her class, so I'd appreciate it if you didn't hold it over my head. Maybe if you're so concerned, you could try helping me a little."

He crossed his arms and ignored me in favor of the TV

The last couple days had done a number on him. He took everything seriously, making honest strides to the point of coddling me. He hadn't yelled at me once, not even during our stupid squabbles, and he'd hugged me often. Usually, I had to be upset for him to show any affection, but maybe he figured Dad's hospitalization and Carol's absence merited it. I didn't know what he was thinking, but his efforts told me he was thinking a lot, so I left him alone and picked up my pencil.

Just as found where I'd left off, his voice startled me. "Give it here."

"You sure?"

"I ain't gonna do it for you, just so we're clear." He snatched the notebook from me. "I used to have to do Soda's on top of mine every day."

"Did you now?" I turned to him slowly, excepting his usual look-at-how-smart-and-talented-I-am-bullshit. Look at how he could do the work of two. Look at how he was so great, and I couldn't do shit, but when our eyes met, I blanked.

The notebook was lead in his hands. He bit his tongue as he tried to concentrate and almost dropped it twice. "Yeah, most of the time we were in the same classes and he'd copy, but others times, I did it for 'im."

"Why?"

"Kept his mom off his back, I guess. School's never been his strong suit. Not mine either, but for different reasons."

Different reasons like he took pride in challenging everybody's authority and skipped too often. My current issues. "Why would she be mad at him, though, if he really couldn't do it?

"She was never _mad_ at him." His eyes flickered, disgusted I'd dare suggest it. "Soda might'a thought so. Sometimes he whined about how unreasonable she was whenever she got on his case about somethin', but he had no clue what unreasonable was."

"If she wasn't gonna be unreasonable, that's an awful lot of work for you..." I wanted to say something about Angela and how he shouldn't be surprised I went to great lengths for her if he did Soda's homework as often as he claimed, but all I said was, "I mean, it doesn't sound like she was gonna beat him."

"Beat him? You kidding me? She never even spanked him."

Couldn't say the same for Angela. Sometimes her mother would tell her she'd give it to her good if she brought home another F, which really meant she'd complain to Earl and let him do her dirty work. I couldn't let her suffer and burn when that was the outcome, but why Soda was hard-pressed was beyond me. "She was kind of hard on them, though, wasn't she?" Steve _had_ compared Mrs. Curtis to Darry once, and I remember the way Darry harped on Pony the last time I'd seen him, so maybe if she pounced on him like that...

"No, not at all." Steve set my assignment down and leaned forward. It was important to him that I heard this. "Listen, Rita was hard on us. She was unreasonable as hell, but Soda's mom just loved them too much. That's all."

"Why do you mean?"

"Hell, she loved everybody," he told me. "Her husband, her kids, even her kids' friends. If she could fix the entire world, she would've. Maybe she got a little uptight sometimes, but it was only 'cause she was thinking about every single thing that could go wrong. She worried about everybody, and Soda didn't wanna make her worry more with his bad grades. That's all, I swear."

"Well, it sounds like she was a great mom."

He mulled over my words for a second and tapped his finger on the last problem I'd completed. "Everything you've done so far's right."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, keep goin'. You're smart."

"Or maybe I just like my math teacher," I quibbled. "He's the only one letting me make up everything I'd missed without penalties. Everyone else says the best I can get is a C."

"Mr. Stewart?" he guessed. "Yeah, I liked him, too, but don't dock yourself. You ain't stupid, so that must make you smart."

Mr. Stewart loved Steve. He told me so on the first day of school. He asked me if my brother was still in school, and I'd never seen a man look so proud when I told him he was. "Not as smart as you."

"_As_ smart as me."

"Fine, as smart as you."

"No, I don't wanna hear fine. You are smart, damn it."

"That's what Dad told my teachers at their meeting a month ago," I said dismissively. "But I don't think he realized just how much I missed, and I ... I don't know if I can pass anymore. I don't think he thinks I can either."

"He say something to make you think that?"

"No, but Carol told me I was too smart to have to repeat the other day, and I think maybe she said it, 'cause he told her I_ am_ gonna repeat." Every conversation I had with Carol looped and looped. All day, every day. If I wasn't consciously thinking about her, I'd dream about her or remember something she said at an inconvenient time.

"Maybe she meant it exactly as she said it and nothing more," he insisted. "That you are capable, and you are."

I shook my head. She left. She'd given up on everyone, and Dad had, as well. Every time his nurse tried to make him eat something, he fought with her. Every time we visited him, he apologized a thousand times but made no vows to fix anything. He didn't _want_ to recover.

"Even if he thinks that, and I ain't sure he does, you prove him wrong, you hear me?"

"But what if I can't?" I slapped my hands over the mountain of homework and straightened out the piles haphazardly. "This is a lot."

"You can, and you will." He lifted my chin, forcing me to look at him. "And I'm always right."

Sure, he was.

"You with me, kid?"

"I guess."

Knowing he believed in me was enough to give it my best shot, but I wouldn't promise anything in case I let him down.

xxxx

"Peter was only twenty-five?"

Steve ripped the newspaper from my fingers. "Don't read this crap."

"Twenty-five is young. Too young to be Dad's friend."

"Dad's young."

"Why was he hanging out with people so young?"

"When I said take a break from your homework, I didn't mean read this," he scolded. "I told you not to read the newspaper or watch the news, didn't I?

"But, Steve—"

"Didn't I?"

He had. I came home in a fit Tuesday night because Annika confided in me about her brother. It was an awful situation. He didn't kill anybody, but he'd robbed a gas station at knife point in the same neighborhood and got in a fight with a couple people after that, so I guess the fuzz thought it was possible he had something to do with the murder. He was far from innocent, but he was no murder suspect. I told Steve about it, and although he agreed it was wrong, he forbid me from reading the newspaper and watching the news. "You'll just get yourself worked up," he said, and he was right, but I was worked up for good reason. The only thing Nate had going for him was he wasn't eighteen yet.

I was sick for Annika and her family. She wasn't in school yesterday or today because she couldn't stand people asking her about her brother. She should've stayed gone all week.

"Don't concern yourself with this horseshit. You need to keep your head."

"I am keeping my head. I ain't some little baby. I just noticed Peter was awfully young."

"Like I said, Dad's young."

"But think about it, Peter must've been around your age when they met."

"You think I haven't?" he asked. "Trust me, I've thought about it plenty."

"It's screwed up," I cried. "Dad had two kids then... Wait, three, 'cause Jack, or maybe four if Shannon was born yet, and he was hanging out with teenagers?"

"I don't know what tell you, Jule, Charlie never grew up."

"Why would a teenager want to hang out with him?"

"He can be a lot of fun when he wants to be."

"I ain't ever seen that side of him." Jealousy speared me. If he could be like that, why wasn't he around me? And then I remembered. He was. Last year's memories clouded my judgement, but I liked visiting him when I was kid. He was always happy to see us and played games with us and did things Aunt Rita thought would spoil us.

"Hard to imagine it now, but I used to like hangin' around him sometimes." Steve hands quivered, and I couldn't tell if it was nerves or frustration. "We got along good until I realized how screwed up it was and started calling him out on it. It's been that way for a couple years now."

"You got along with him?"

"Didn't start calling him Charlie to disrespect 'im."

That wasn't what he'd told me. He specifically said it was to disrespect him. "Why did you then?"

"He was like my wayward older brother, I guess."

"Wayward older brother?" I questioned.

"Yeah, he let me smoke and do whatever I wanted unless he was having one of those rare moments where he suddenly felt like he should be a father."

I knew all about that. He picked the worst times.

"I had no idea," I said, my anthem whenever he told me things like this. It was hard to be surprised, even as I devoured the goldmine of knowledge. It was like rereading a story you read a long time ago from another character's point of view. He filled in the gaps I always knew existed.

"Man, I thought I'd died and gone to heaven whenever let me hang out with him and Peter. Soda loved it too. Peter taught us all kinds of things about cars and ... well, never mind."

"And what?"

Steve blushed.

"You were gonna say girls, weren't you?"

"Forget it," he snapped.

"What'd Soda's parents think of that?"

"Oh, they hated it." He smiled then. It was good memory for him. "His mom was gonna wig out, that's a given, but his dad, I think he was even more upset. Soda said he almost yelled at him."

"Did he say anything to you?"

"Yeah."

"What'd he say?"

Steve's smile faded. "He sat me down and told me about a bunch of stuff he did when he was a kid and that he knew what it was like to have a lousy father. Not that he outright said Charlie was lousy, but I caught his drift."

Hearing him talk about Soda's parents always made me queasy on the inside. I thought back to everything he'd said about Mrs. Curtis an hour ago, and now it was Mr. Curtis. I used to get jealous because I wanted a functional surrogate family, but I was glad I never had one. When Steve lost them, he'd lost a mother all over again and the man he'd rather call Dad, and you couldn't miss something you never had.

"I started thinking about how messed up it was after that." He talked faster. "I dunno why I'm tellin' you this. Hell, it don't matter much anymore. You know how it is now."

"You stopped 'cause of what Mr. Curtis said?"

"Kind of," he admitted. "Started thinking about it a little more at least. How wrong it was. What it was doing to you."

"Me?"

"Yeah, Dad'd just let the nine or ten year old neighbor girl babysit you for a dime."

Darlene. I remembered her now. She wasn't very bright, but I felt for her because her dad was meaner than all the men Angela's mother had dated combined. She liked coming to watch me because she could get out of her house for a while.

"At least he didn't leave me alone," I said, but it was hardly an assurance to Steve.

"But don't you get it? He would've," he half-shouted. "It was bad enough he let a kid that young babysit you, but there were times she couldn't, and instead of ordering me to stay home or god forbid cancel his damn plans, he said you'd be fine for an hour, 'cause you never caused any trouble."

His words slithered around my neck, choking me. "But wasn't Rosie here by then?"

He shook his head.

"So you both just—"

"No. Damn it, no, I wouldn't do that. I stayed back. I wasn't happy about it, but I did."

I breathed easier. If Steve had told me otherwise ...

I closed my eyes and told myself it didn't matter. It was the past, but I couldn't deny my relief. Steve wasn't perfect, but he came through when it counted, and I didn't need that rug pulled out from under me. Not now. Not ever.

"He was awful surprised," he huffed. "Thought I was gonna be upset if he told me I couldn't come. Wanted me to like him or something. Funny he should give a damn about that when a couple months later were were at each other's throats all the time."

"I ... I don't know what to say," I struggled, and I wasn't sure he heard me either.

"But it was bullshit he thought he could leave you home alone." He rushed himself, one word after the after, driven by some force to get it all out. "It was bullshit he married Rosie. Bullshit he did a lot of things, and I called him out on it. Every last goddamned thing he did, and the bastard starting kickin' me out, 'cause he couldn't handle the truth. And he started drinking more ... And ... And we should eat." He stood up abruptly. "Christ, it's after seven already."

He asked me what I wanted, and I stared at him. How could he expect an answer after all this?

He wanted me to forget. The desperation in his eyes begged me to let it go. He was embarassed, and I was terrible. I didn't pester him about Dad, but what I asked was no less awkward. "You think Carol's coming back?"

"No." His shoulders rose and fell with his breath. "Hell, I can't lie to you, Jule."

A simple, yet candid answer to the question I'd wanted to ask him every night since Sunday.

"I don't want you to lie," I whispered, seconds away from unravelling.

"Forgive me for saying it, but I don't think she should either." He forgot all about supper and dashed to my side. "She's been through so much, and Charlie ain't exactly the man you wanna run to as much as a man you wanna run from. Think about it."

I had thought about it. As Steve wrapped an arm around me, I tried to rekindle the strength I'd channeled when I told her she deserved better.

I couldn't.

Even though I knew what I said was right, the feeling behind it was gone.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'm excited to hear your thoughts, especially about Steve and Charlie's backstory. I know you're probably as busy as I am this time of year and would rather not review, but I'd very much appreciate it if you could take a second or two to comment. :)


	31. Chapter 31

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

Last chapter. I probably should've mentioned it was coming previously. I'm sorry. Very lame of me not to give you adequate warning ... Thank you for your support throughout the series. I sincerely appreciate it, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

_Friday, January 28th, 1967_

Angela had a tenacious look about her when she flagged me down after school. It could only mean she had plans for us, plans I wouldn't be a part of.

"I need to talk to you." Her eyes veered away. She sounded less confident than she looked. "Somewhere private, and you better promise you won't tell a soul."

"What's wrong?"

She stood there with her arms crossed, staring at the drinking fountain across the hallway. "I'mma need a place to stay tonight, or maybe for a few nights. For a while, I guess."

"Shoot, Angel, my dad's in the hospital, and Steve—"

"Please," she pleaded, as desperate as you'd beg someone not to die.

If I said no, it'd shatter her.

"Shoot, you get kicked out or something?"

She hooked her arm in mine and rushed me out of the building. "I'll tell you when we get to your place."

xxxx

Angela cried for several minutes before she could say anything. "I gave her the money. All of it."

"Who?"

"My mom," she said. "I even told her it was from her pills."

"You sure you didn't kicked out?" I asked, pushing my fingers through my hair.

She rubbed her eyes with her sleeve. "Shut up and let me finish, will ya?"

"Was she mad?"

"No," Angela replied. "Guess she thought Earl had tossed 'em out and was holding a grudge against her or something like that, so she was happy to hear I'd taken them. And she said she was proud of me too. She honest to God said she was proud. What for, I dunno. Ain't nothing to be proud of me for. I'm a big disappointment to everybody."

"Maybe she was glad you fessed up," I suggested. "Or just glad you ain't running around town no more, and please don't talk like that. You're not a disappointment."

"She was only happy for the money." She took a deep breath and managed to compose herself. "'Course Earl had to know where she got it. Thought she was gonna rat me out, but she didn't. She told him it was none of his business, an' good ol' Earl couldn't let it go. He lost it on her."

"He hit her?"

"No, worse," Angela said. "He accused her of cheating on 'im. Of sleeping with other men for the money. She ain't been sleeping much in the last several nights, and whenever he don't see her in the bed next to him, he assumes she's lookin' elsewhere. He's lucky Tim's still locked up. I swear to God, Tim would've knocked him unconscious in one punch for saying that."

I didn't doubt it.

"And that ain't the worst of it," she continued. "Ma's getting crazier. _He's _the one making her crazy, but last night, it got bad enough he quit trying to fight with her. He was scared. Hell, I seen it in his eyes. He was downright terrified. He called her mother, and her mother called her father, and he decided she needed to see some therapist. He's gonna pay for it again, like he did those pills."

"What'd Earl say to that?"

"Son of a gun was glad, I guess." Tears brimmed her eyes again. "Her old man took her home with him. I ain't shittin' you ... He told her if she got a break from us it might get her back in her right mind, and she seemed to agree, so he just up and left with her. Earl let it happen. You should've seen him. He put on a real convincing act about how much he cares, and how he'll take good care of his stepkids, but he don't care about no one but his greedy old self."

I wondered if he'd done it on purpose or if he truly was afraid of his wife; it was a huge jump to go from hating her pills to letting her go freely. Not that I wanted to defend him. There was no way he'd take good care of his stepkids, but he had reason to be concerned.

"I can't handle being there alone with him." Angela smooshed her face into her hands. "I can't. Curly's always coming and going, and I—"

"Stay here as long as you need," I offered promptly.

"You can't tell anybody I told you this," she mumbled. "Promise me."

I promised her.

She hugged me as tight as she could. "I don't even know why you're nice to me anymore."

I hugged her back. "I don't know why I wouldn't be."

"Bryon and I are gonna go to a movie tonight or something." She pulled away and forced a smile. "You wanna come along?"

"You mean like a date? That'd be a little awkward for me."

"Other people'll probably go too. It ain't just us, I promise. If it's just us, we end up fightin'."

"I don't think I should."

"I don't really wanna go either to be completely honest." You could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "But I have to do something. I've been in bed all week. I didn't even go to school 'til today. I just ... I need to get my mind off things."

"Does Bryon know about any of this?"

"Bryon hardly knows a thing about me, and I plan to keep it that way."

"But he's been your boyfriend for a long time," I pointed out. "On and off, but still. He ain't dumb, so I don't know how couldn't be suspicious."

"Oh, I assure you, he's _plenty _clueless about most things," she reassured. "He knows I dated James when we were broken up and he hates Pony Curtis 'cause he thinks I flirt with him sometimes, but he's so thick-headed."

"Why do you date him then?"

"He's kind of endearing in a funny sort of way, and he puts up a good fight when you argue with him."

That was the oddest reason to date somebody I'd ever heard, but hardly shocking coming from her lips.

"I wish James did that," she half-whined. "James ain't so bright either, but not like Bryon. Bryon's ... Bryon. There's no other way to put it."

"I just don't think he seems as dumb as you make him out to be." Granted, I didn't know him like she did, but there was no doubt they were equally responsible for their troubled relationship.

"Please, Jule, he don't even know what his buddy Mark's up to half the time, and they're more or less brothers."

"So?"

"So Mark's been selling to half the town, and Bryon ain't got a clue. It's sad. Pathetic even."

I raised both eyebrows. "Half the town?"

"You know what I mean. A good number of people, considering his age"

"Maybe Mark's really secretive and Bryon trusts him a lot."

"I don't know, and I don't give a shit about their brotherly love either," she said indifferently. "All I know is Mark's got himself quite a network. Hell, he pointed me in the direction of the girls who bought Ma's pills. Said they weren't too smart and probably'd give me more than what they were worth. He was right. I made double what I should've. All 'cause they wanted to lose weight."

"You think Bryon'll ever figure it out?"

"If he does, he'll go nuts," Angela said, suddenly wide-eyed. "That'll be the sorriest day of Mark's life, and if he figures out I knew about it before he did ... Let's just say he don't like it when people go behind his back, especially if they outsmart him somehow."

"I think most people would hate that. Doesn't make him unique."

She curled her lip under her teeth.

"No one likes to be lied to," I persisted. "You can't fault him for that."

"You sure you don't wanna come? I'mma swing by Bryon's now."

"Yeah, I'm sure."

She nodded and walked out the room without so much as a goodbye.

There was something eerie about her—her vacant eyes and empty smiles, and the way she glanced away whenever she said something.

She was worse off than she was a week ago.

xxxx

"There was a note in the mailbox for you," Steve announced. He kicked off his shoes and approached me.

"From who?"

"Hell if I know. It's a folded sheet of paper with your name on it, not a letter."

He tossed it in my lap and stood over me as I opened it. "What? You think it's gonna be from a boy or something?" I asked and elbowed him away. "Back off. It ain't yours to read."

"You better not have boys sending you notes yet," he groused. "But to tell you the truth, I wanna know if it's from Carol."

"Maybe you oughta read it first." I folded it back up and shoved at him. "Please. In case it is."

He took it from me and reopened it methodically. "Dear Julie," he read aloud.

It was from Annika. She was the first and only person to call me Julie on purpose.

"My mother's making us move," Steve kept reading. "She says the city was a bad influence on us kids and blames Tulsa for what Nate did. I'm not sure where she wants us to go yet, but she's pulled us out of school in the meantime. She's gonna homeschool us, I guess." He pulled the letter away from his face and nudged my shoulder. "You wanna read the rest on your own?"

I didn't know what I wanted, so I said nothing.

"Alright then." He took my silence as a sign to continue. "Sorry I had to write you a note, but I had no other way of telling you. She'll be mad I snuck out to deliver it to you, but I don't care. I hate her for doing this. You were my first and only friend here, and I hope she doesn't make us move so far away we can't still be friends. I copied down your address, so I can write to you if she does in case she does. I'm so sorry. You were a good friend to me. Love, Annika."

I tore the note out of his hands and glossed it over to make sure he hadn't made up any of it. He'd read it word for word. "You said her name wrong by the way."

"This that girl you went to the movies with?" he asked.

"Don't you _dare_ tell me you're happy about this."

He sat down beside me and gave me irksome look. "I just wanted to make sure it was who I thought it was."

I ripped up the note and tossed the pieces at the floor.

Steve pointed to the mess. "You might regret that later."

"I won't."

Maybe she'd write me like she said, maybe she wouldn't, but I wouldn't hold my breath.

xxxx

The door opened, and I jumped to my feet. I'd spent the last two hours moping over Annika's note when I should've spent the time explaining why Angela was our houseguest. "Hey, Steve, I, um ..." It was Carol. "Never mind."

She appeared steadfast and determined. I approached, hoping to talk to her, but she whisked through the house, eyes focused on her task. I was as insignificant as the carpet stains to her. _Why can't you say a damn thing to her? Now she's never coming back, and this could be your last chance to say anything, but maybe that's her fault, so why don't tell her to go screw herself an'—_

My arms were splotchy and red from picking at my skin. I tried to understand, but this was Rosie all over again.

Carol paused to catch her breath and had the nerve to thank me for the things I'd said. She told me I was right, and I never wanted to be more wrong. If I could snatch back every word and tell her Charlie was her Prince Charming, I would. My throat clenched at the thought of speaking, at the thought of confronting her, but I had to. "Do you still mean everything what you said?"

She dropped the shirt she was folding. "Pardon?"

"Everything you said last week. Do you still mean it? That's all I want to know. Do you still mean it, or was it just some lie?"

"Of course I do." Her voice wobbled along with the rest of her.

I picked up the shirt and flung it at her. "But you weren't gonna leave. I swear to God you said that, and now this? You're packin' up everything, an' you're gonna jus'—

"Heaven on high, Julia, I need some space right now, or I'mma be so crazy they'll stick me in a looney bin somewhere."

I thought of Angela's mom, and she wasn't that crazy yet.

She raised her chin and stared at me, fear radiating off her. "I just can't."

"Can't what?"

She spouted off a lengthy explanation, apologizing for every word before she said it. "Shannon can't be around this," was her cry through it all. Shannon, Shannon, Shannon. Everything Shannon. She didn't care about herself, only Shannon, and I was right. We were the reason she left Shannon at her cousin's last weekend and the reason she came alone now.

"If that's what you think you need to do, then fine, but I don't wanna hear anymore crap. If you're gonna leave, just do it and don't bother coming back."

"Julia, please, I didn't want to do this, but I have to." She dropped everything in her hands and scampered to hug me. "I promise if you need anything and I mean anything, I'm just a phone call away."

I let her hug me, but she was lying. She'd be relieved if I never called her again.

"You dig that, sweetheart?" she asked me. "That's what you kids are sayin' now, ain't it?"

I wiggled out of her arms and backed away.

She wiped at her eyes and resumed her mission hastily. Instead of folding, she stuffed and shoved.

"You say this now, but we ain't ever gonna see you or Shannon again," I yelled. "That's how it's gonna be, ain't it? Why don't you just admit that now?"

She snapped the clasp on the bag and tossed it on the floor next to a bulging old pillow case she'd crammed Shannon's things into. "Don't you think your sister'll wanna see her family?" she asked me. "She adores you, and I ain't about to forbid her from seeing her family, so you'll see us. I promise you will."

I bit down on my lip.

"Hell, I'd take you with me if I could, but your father wouldn't have it."

My father wouldn't care if she did. Only Steve. "If you really care about me, go and never come back."

And she went.

It hit me after the door slammed.

I kicked the leg of the chair a couple times and turned to Steve. He'd been standing against a wall this entire time, stiffened like someone was holding a gun to his temple. "What's wrong with me?" I pulled at the roots of my hair and collapsed onto the couch. "I was so mean to her. Now she won't even wanna visit us."

The contours of his face softened, and he peeled himself away from the wall. "Maybe it was a little harsh, but you got a right to be mad."

"I don't know."

"Of course, you do." He trailed over to me and sat on the coffee table. "Gosh, kid, why wouldn't you?"

"_Don't_ call me kid."

"Would you rather I called you a brat or something worse?"

"I'd rather you called me my name."

"Fine. Julia, would you please sit up?" He poked my shoulder and pulled on one of my arms until I obliged.

"She's as bad as Charlie," I declared. "She was all on about you being a kid yourself, and now she's just leaving you to take care of me. The hell's wrong with her, Steve? Why would she tell us those things and then just leave? She don't care about us at all. She's just ... she's a bitch!"

"She ain't a bitch." He scooted himself off the coffee table and settled himself next to me on the couch. "That's a little much, kid."

I didn't mind being called kid this time. Knowing he hadn't repeated it on purpose made it unusually comforting.

"If you told me this about Rosie, I'd agree with you in a heartbeat," he continued. "Carol, though. She's only troubled, and it ain't her fault."

"But why would she even bother telling you all that bullshit about you being a kid yourself if she was just gonna leave?" That was what I wanted and needed to know. Her argument meant nothing now. The fight they'd had evenings ago could've been prevented.

"I don't mind."

"Of course you mind," I seethed. "How could you not? You probably wanna be racing cars with your friends or going on dates with your girlfriend or all kinds of different things. If you didn't have me holding you back, you'd be—"

"Shut up," he said. "Just shut up for two damn seconds and listen to what the hell you're saying. Did we not have this conversation a few nights ago? You gonna ask me if I hate you a million times again? 'Cause the answer ain't ever gonna change."

I turned away from him and leaned against the couch ledge.

"Excuse me, maybe you were too drunk to remember that," he added.

He didn't have to say that. That was the last thing I needed to hear right now, and he had to have known it.

He relocated to opposite end of the couch, but he didn't leave. His eyes were on my back and his presence loomed over me. I shifted myself up and hugged my knees. Facing him once again, I expected to see his typical _I'm about to strangle you_ look, but all I saw was confusion and hurt.

"I hope she means what she says," he told me. "Maybe he'll remember how bad he screwed up if he has to see her often."

"I think I'll miss Shannon more." Carol wasn't related to us, but Shannon was.

"Yeah, well, at least she'll have a better childhood than we did."

I hadn't thought about it that way, despite all Carol had said to me a few minutes ago. "Yeah, at least," I agreed. "Carol's a pretty good mom, but Dad ..."

He held up a hand. "You don't have to tell me."

We both knew; we both understood.

Shannon was lucky she wouldn't.

xxxx

_February 1967_

Angela never returned. She and Bryon were getting along so well she bunked with him, and Steve and I enjoyed a few days to ourselves before Dad came home.

I came to terms with Carol's decision. I got so used to the idea I started to imagine things would be better without her. She'd spent her entire month here pushing Dad to be a better father, yet things ran smoother when he didn't bother. She was right to raise concerns, but she'd tipped the delicate dysfunctional balance.

Dad treated his room like a cave the first week he was home. If he emerged at all, he hogged the couch and spent his days complaining of a headache or backache. Many nights he cried. The walls were thin enough I heard it. Didn't even have to press my ear to the wall either, and his short-lived sobriety went out the window. Booze was the one thing he had energy for.

Steve lost it on him. He dumped out all the liquor and even smashed a couple bottles, all the while Dad stood there, helplessly letting it unfold.

"You're worthless," he hurled. "Worthless, Dad, worthless."

Steve ridiculed him, derided him, wounded him in the worst ways possible. "Carol left you for good reason." And he listed every reason. I let him. He needed to make his statement, needed to have his scene, needed to get it out. He'd kept it together so long. He'd been my rock throughout this nonsense, and I didn't blame him for breaking down, but he didn't need to beat on Dad.

A punch or two would've sufficed. He deserved that, but not the way Steve beat on him.

I had to intervene.

Words did nothing. No amount of hollering caught Steve's attention, so I leapt between them mid punch and wound up on the floor.

I must've tripped or dodged the blow instinctually. It happened so fast I had no clue how I got from point A to B, but I knew he hadn't hit me.

"Shit, I didn't ..." The sight of me on the ground halted him, and he dropped to his knees beside me, panic in his eyes. He tilted my chin up and down, side to side, looking for signs of damage. " ... did I?"

Unfortunately, the only way to deflect his attention off our father was to let him believe he had. "Yeah."

"You hurt bad?"

I glanced away, rubbing the sting out of my arm. It throbbed enough from the fall I knew I had a bruise to show for it.

"You shouldn't'a stepped between us," Steve chided.

"You're gonna push the blame on me then? I shouldn't interfere when you were gonna snap his neck?" He would've, too, and Dad would've let it happen.

The man took one look at us and wandered out of the room a skeleton, no more aware of his surroundings than he was my lie.

"No, God, no, that ain't what I meant. I just don't wanna hurt you." Steve damn near cradled me in his arms and apologized repeatedly.

I fessed up. I couldn't take it was something tremendously wrong about manipulating his sympathies this way, but it was too late. He didn't believe me; only insisted I was trying to make him feel better.

I rested my head against his shoulder and told him I forgave him. It was the next best thing I could do.

"I swear, the second Dad gets something decent, he has to sabotage it," he said, marking the second time he'd called our father Dad.

The lone indication his actions were out of concern.

xxxx

Dad eventually found a job stocking grocery shelves, a job typically reserved for a high school student.

He lugged himself to work everyday with apparent dedication—maybe because of Steve, maybe not—but either way, he continued to drink. He'd dump something in his coffee at breakfast, and I didn't care to know what he consumed while on the job.

I asked him about it one monring. Without batting an eye, he looked at me and assured me it was creamer.

"Funny I've never run across a clear coffee creamer that smelled so bitter and dry," I grumbled.

"You're only smellin' the coffee." The way he garbled the words told me he was far from sober. "Always brew it strong. Always have."

The sustained silence between us was hell.

"You gonna turn on me like your brother?" he asked.

I stared at him. Not answering him was more of an insult than anything I could say.

He set the cup down, spilling a couple drops on the table and floor. "Say, those teachers of yours givin' you any trouble, hmm?" He strolled up to me and patted my shoulder. "They better not be."

With the exception of math, my grades remained in shambles, but I didn't tell him that. I asked him what he planned to do about it.

"I'll go in again and have myself a little talk with 'em." He tried to sound reassuring, but all I heard was noise. "They ain't gonna fail you, baby. Not if I got nothin' to say about it." He got up and reached for his keys. "I'll stop by the school after work, I will. You just wait for me, okay? We'll straighten it out."

He moved for the door and stopped halfway, peering back at me like he wanted some kind of affirmation.

He'd only make an ass of himself. Here he was, acting like he'd gotten his shit together when he was only shoving the pieces in order for the next trainwreck.

That was all the motivation I needed. I'd go to class. I'd quit skipping. I'd do whatever I had to do. Giving up wasn't as option, and giving a half-assed effort wasn't either.

"I don't need your help," I told him, landing on the same realization Steve must've hit years ago. "I'll damn well fix the problem myself."


	32. Epilogue

My apologies it's been forever and a half since you've heard from me. I've been really tied up for reasons I don't really need to get into, but I hope you haven't given up on me because I'm not ready to give up writing the series. :)

* * *

Disclaimer: S.E. Hinton owns.

**Epilogue**

**May 1967**

Three months of dragging my feet and forcing myself to care paid off when I saw my report card. Not that I made the honor roll or anything, but Mr. Hanson seemed to think I had. "After everything you've been through this year, a C average is a miracle," he told me. "You really ought to be proud of yourself."

I sure didn't feel proud. Between his hearty handshake and toothy smile, I asked if I should be proud of my low conduct grade as well.

He studied my face for a moment. I'd thrown him off his game yet again.

"Don't press your luck, Miss Randle." He shook a finger at me and narrowed his eyes into that stern principal look he wore so well. "Need I remind you you've got two more years before we graduate you to high school, and you don't want to set yourself off on the wrong foot for next year now, do you?"

"No, sir," I assured him. "I was only joking."

"Well, you're lucky this old man still has a sense of humor left in him," he said, as he escorted me out of his office. "I mean what I said, though; don't press your luck."

"Have a good summer," I said before he shut the door on me, as cheerily as I could muster. What I wanted to say was I didn't give a shit about what he thought of me much less what my grades were, but it was the last day of school. All that mattered was seventh grade was over, and I was free—free from detention; free from getting flack about late assignments; free from Dad threatening to cuss out my teachers when he should've scolded me.

When the final bell rang, I couldn't get out of the building fast enough. My legs itched to run a marathon; I figured I might make it home in half the usual time if I sprinted, but Leslie caught my eye on my way out. He sat on the last step outside the school by his lonesome, and I couldn't pass him by in good conscience.

In an effort not to embarrass him, I crouched down and whispered soft enough that only he could hear me, "You alright, Les?"

"Yeah, fine," he sighed, head bowed to the concrete and hands shielding his face.

I promptly took a seat beside him.

He lifted his head and uncovered his eyes for a second. "I don't know think I ever thanked you for helping me out this year."

"Don't mention it," I hesitated, wondering why he bothered thanking me when I'd all but ignored him until now. It'd been months since we'd had a real conversation. Sometimes I'd smile if I ran into him in the hallway. Other times, we'd awkwardly exchange greetings and wave at each other as we scurried off in our separate directions, but more often than not, I pretended not to see him. Maybe he was glad for it, since any attention seemed to overwhelm him, but I felt like a bitch, especially knowing he needed a friend as desperately as I did.

The girl he used to sit with at lunch had moved away, same as Annika had, and Angela was too busy going steady with Bryon to give a hang about anyone else, They'd gone a whole two months without a breakup, which shot Angela over the moon. Bryon, Bryon, Bryon. Bryon was the sunrise and sunset in her world, and I was nobody.

Only I wasn't.

I tried not to get overdramatic about it, especially when she hadn't shunned me the same way she had other girls—I mean, if she truly were truly done with me, she'd have told me point blank and disposed of me. When it came down to it, _I _was the one pushing _her_ away. Whenever she invited me anywhere, I'd turn her down without so much as a smile to let her know there were no hard feelings, and yet, she took no hard feelings. She still sat beside me at lunch and called me up every weekend with new plans. Plans I always turned down, and it was beyond me why she still didn't take it personally.

The same girl had sobbed on my shoulder just a few short months ago, telling me all about how she was a terrible human and how didn't deserve anyone's kindness. That girl would've cried herself asleep the second I gave her the cold shoulder, but Angela just smirked and told me she'd see me around. At least I could be grateful she was herself again. She had _it_ back, that volatile, charming, unabashed personality, and all the manipulation that came along with it.

_That _was why I turned her down. She could wrap Bryon around her finger until their skin melded, but she wouldn't trick me. She couldn't dig her way under my skin anymore. I'd put up with bullshit for far too long, and it wasn't worth hanging around her when everything she did made me uncomfortable, but she was _still _my friend. She was. She always would be, but in the meantime, I needed better friends.

Not Annika. Not Angela. Not even Rachel.

Rachel was a nice girl, but she was trying too hard to fit in with the rich, snobby girls. She dressed like them, talked like them, even wore her makeup like them. At least she didn't lay it on as thick as some of the greaser girls did, but she must've thought she was destined to make the high school cheerleading squad. What I wanted to know how she afforded half the junk she wore. Her brother must've taught her how to five-finger discount. Either that or someone was giving her some pretty nice hand-me-downs, but I'd put my money on the first.

"Hey, Julia?" Leslie's voice startled me like the recoil of a shotgun. "You okay?"

"I'm good." I straightened my back out and forced a grin. "I, um, I spaced out for a bit. Were you tryin' to say something?"

"Not really," he said, blushing. "I just thanked you."

"Oh god, don't thank me." I raked a hand through my hair and winced. I was so embarrassed, I could feel the heat radiating off my face. "You really don't have to thank me for anything. Honest, Les, I don't think I've done a damn think for you lately. I don't deserve any thanks."

"I dunno, it sure was awfully nice to you to tell everyone we were dating," he insisted with a shrug. "You didn't have to, but ever since then, they don't call me queer no more."

"Oh jeez, don't even mention it," I dismissed it rapidly. "They were probably just jealous of you, 'cause you can draw real good and don't like football as much as they do or something like that."

"Screw football," he cursed under his breath. "And to think James _still _wants me to try out next year. He says I'd make a good running back, and I don't get it. Why does he want me to try out when he won't do it himself? Says he's got better things to do than hang out with all them jocks, and yet he's pushing me into it. So's my mom's new boyfriend."

"She's dating someone?" I asked.

"Yeah, she's been with Rick for four months now. They're probably gonna get married, and don't even ask me how I feel about that."

"Married," I mumbled to myself in disbelief. _But she just met the man_, I nearly added, but he didn't need to hear it.

I could only guess how serious it was from how fast Leslie paled. "He already asked Joyce what kind of ring she'd like," he told me.

"What'd your sister tell him?"

"She said Ma hates jewelry 'cause she hates him as much as I hate him." His voice cracked, and he covered his eyes again. "I don't know why. Everyone else seems to like him just fine, but there's something about him. I can't put my finger on it, and Joyce agrees. We just don't know why he wants to marry a single lady with all these kids when he's got none of his own!" He stopped and coughed, trying to catch his breath in a desperate attempt to regain his composure. The kid was trying so hard not to cry I almost broke down right along with him.

"It's okay, Les." I ran a hand up and down his back, trying to calm him down. "I understand."

"It_ is_ strange, but maybe it's not," he said. "Didn't someone marry your dad, even though they knew he had kids?"

I nodded reluctantly. "It's a long story, but yeah, they did." I didn't want to go into how Carol and him had lied about getting married, or how he'd married Rosie when she was barely older than Steve. Or how he'd had a thing with Jack's mother and never married her. In short, he'd had a lifetime of failed relationships.

Leslie shrugged and crossed his arms over his knees. "I wish my mom would just decide to stay single, damn it."

God, if my father couldn't use a hefty dose of the same advice…

"You wanna go to a movie or something?" Leslie wiped at his eyes. I was glad for the subject change, but he needed it more.

"I know we're not dating for real, but I don't really give a crap," he continued. "I wish we could sooner, but I'm busy for the next couple weeks. Gotta go to this stupid summer camp thing my mom wants me to, but how 'bout Friday two weeks from now? Believe me, I'll want to go do something after this.

"I'd love to go to a movie." I almost added that my thirteen birthday was exactly two weeks from now, but I didn't want to draw attention to myself.

"Sounds great." He uncrossed his arms, a tiny smirk creeping across his lips. "Heck, I don't even care if we call it a date."

"Me either."

I grinned and tried not to giggle like a love-stricken idiot. It wasn't that Leslie was as good looking as magazine model stud or charming in the same way his brother was; I'd just never been asked out before—well, save for the jerk who'd made an unwanted advance at me—and even though this was far from an official date, I'd enjoy it for what it was worth.

"But it's not _really_ a date, is it?" Leslie asked. "Well, maybe it is. Friends can have a date, can't they?"

"Of course, they can," I agreed.

I might tell Angela it was official if she asked, but if Steve asked, we were strictly friends.

And that's all we were anyway.

xxxx

"Didn't I tell 'em, honey?" Dad he tacked my report card on the fridge next to Shannon's drawing.

She'd sent us all kinds of artwork; the most recent, her rendition of her pet cat.

Carol insisted a cat was a practical gift to keep the mice out of their new home, but I suspected there was more to the story. I suspected the kitten was to appease Shannon's loneliness after their departure, especially since they'd moved into an old farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Her brother had joined them fresh out of Vietnam, and Carol maintained the country setting was perfect for them both to get their feet back on the ground.

"I told 'em you was smart, didn't I?" Dad's words zinged past me. I hadn't realized he was still talking about my goddamned grades.

I gave him a nod to shut him up and tried to slip away unnoticed, but Steve's voice pulled me back into the room.

"You seem more proud of yourself than her," Steve said. "You keep saying all this shit about how you went in and talked to them, and who gives a damn?"

Dad massaged the back of his neck uneasily and bobbed his head to me, like I was supposed to vouch for him. "Ask your sister. I did."

I rolled my eyes and started to walk away again. "Excuse me, but I'd rather not get in the middle of your bullshit."

Dad grabbed my arm and halted me. "Tell your brother," he demanded.

"He did," I mumbled. _And he made a giant ass of himself too_, I could've added, but he kept his grip on my arm.

"Told 'em there was something wrong with the school and its teachers if she was failin'," Dad continued. "She ain't one of them retarded kids, so they needed to pull their shit together. Didn't I tell 'em, Julia? Tell you brother I did. He don't seem to believe me."

"I already did," I asserted.

"Oh, I heard her," Steve affirmed, and Dad finally let go of me. "I just don't see why you think it's _your_ big accomplishment and why you're claiming credit for her hard work."

"I ain't claiming credit for nothin'," Dad persisted.

If he was, I hadn't noticed, but I _had _noticed the effusive, undeserved praise; if he really cared about me, he'd reprimand me and tell me I shouldn't have ever been in jeopardy of failing. That was why I wasn't proud. He'd have harped on me instead of making an ass by blaming all my teachers. Not once, but twice. The first time wasn't that bad, but the second time … He'd gone in there _after_ I told him I could handle it on my own.

"Then why's this such a big deal to you?" Steve asked. "Why don't you just tell her she did a good job or something like that instead of going on about how you showed up her teachers?"

"You gonna say anything?" Dad pleaded with me. "If I remember right, I did go in and talk to them."

I swallowed back my frustration and shook my head. "There's nothing _to_ say, Dad."

"You agree with him then?" He gestured to Steve. "Jesus, I ain't claiming credit, honey. I'm just stating what I knew all along, exactly as I told them, and I am proud of you. You know that, right?"

Proud of me for _what_? The C's? The low conduct grade? Steve was right; he seemed more proud of himself.

"And alright, fine, you win." He glared at Steve. "Maybe I am claiming a_ little_ credit, but this hasn't exactly been the best year for me, and this is _one_ thing I didn't completely screw up. Can I at least have that, or am I always gonna be the goddamned villain around here?"

His defeated sigh made me feel sorry for him in the same way I might feel sorry for a toddler throwing a tantrum. On some level, I sympathized with his distress, but mostly, I was annoyed. "Steve's right," I told him. "Maybe you didn't completely screw it up, but you didn't help me much either.

"How'd I not help you?" He sounded genuinely confused and looked it too.

"You heard it straight from her lips," Steve said. "What more do you need? You didn't help her. End of story."

"Well, then I guess you did, then? That's how it always is. You're the hero and I'm the asshole."

"She did it on her own," Steve told him. "Without my help _or_ yours, and that's the damn point. You wanna be proud of her for something, be proud of that, but don't pat yourself on the back while you're at it."

Steve had helped me, though. He helped me with my homework. And encouraged me to keep going when I wanted to give up. And chewed me out when I blew off detention. And signed Dad's name on every note my teachers sent home.

I trailed over to him and tugged on his sleeve. "You _did_ help me," I whispered, loud enough that Dad could hear it.

"Of course he did." He stomped towards us and grabbed my arm again. "He's always … always coddling you. Just like Rosie did."

"You tryin' to tell me I'm spoiled or something?" I wiggled out of his grip and backed up a foot.

Steve caught me and pulled me behind him.

"'And don't tell me you don't." Dad gestured to us. "Christ, you act like I'm gonna beat her or something."

"The hell did I do?" Steve asked.

Dad shot a finger down the hallway. "Go to your room, Julia."

"Why?" I demanded.

Dad thrust his fingers through his hair. "You're not in trouble, I promise. And you're not spoiled either. I'm sorry I said that, but please, baby, please just go to your room."

I shook my head.

"I need to talk your brother," he said. "Alone."

Steve nudged me towards my door. "Go."

"You don't have to order her around like that," Dad hissed. "I already told her to go, and that's enough. For heaven's sake, you don't have to tell her again."

"Do you want her to leave or not?" Steve asked.

Dad crossed his arms and shook his head. "Alright, fine, but it's still unnecessary."

"Go," Steve ordered again.

"C'mon," I pleaded with him.

"Now," he said a bit louder.

I went, but _only_ to help Steve prove something to Dad.

"Why're always cutting me down in front of her like that?" Dad yelled. "It's no wonder she don't respect me when you're always cutting me down."

"That ain't why she don't respect you," Steve said, calmer than I'd have expected.

I lingered in the hallway to hear the rest of their conversation.

"You wanna know why she don't respect you?" Steve asked. "You weren't there the times she's needed you."

"And lemme guess? You were?"

"More than you've been at least," Steve said. "Christ, you can't expect her to give you unlimited chances. Why should she when you've blown too many of 'em?"

"You make me look bad," Dad accused. "You baby her so goddamn much I always look bad."

There was a loud sound that sounded like someone banging a fist against wood. I couldn't tell who was responsible, but it made me jump. I wanted to hide under a rock somewhere until the fight was over, but I wanted to hear the end all the same.

"Would you stop with that bullshit?" someone yelled. "For Christ's sakes, you're moodier a teenaged girl." I presumed it was Steve, but it was hard to tell when they were both shouting.

Silence followed, and the suspense was worse than the hollering. I nearly ran out there just to break it, but Steve did the honors for me.

"You're having a drink now?" was all he said.

"What? I can't have a drink after a long day?"

Steve stormed out of the room; at least I thought it was Steve. Whoever it was the footsteps grew heavier and louder, vibrating the creaky floorboards beneath them.

I blinked, and Steve was standing before me. "How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it," I mumbled to the ground.

"Great." He shooed me into my room and slammed the door behind us. "Would it kill you not to eavesdrop for a change?"

"Excuse me, but were you or were you not talking about me?" I whipped around and glared at him. "If that's not my goddamned business, then I don't know what the hell is, and I could've heard you from outside you were yelling so loud, so I don't wanna hear it, Steve. I don't wanna fucking hear it."

"Sit down." He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to sit on the bed. "Calm down, and watch your mouth while you're at it."

"You know, I've been meaning to thank you," I told him begrudgingly. "But if you're gonna be a jerk to me, maybe I'll forget about it."

"Thank me for what?" he asked.

"For helping me make it."

"Don't bother thanking me," he dismissed it rapidly as I'd dismissed Leslie's thanks. "You did it on your own. You're smart. Heck, you shouldn't have been failing in the first place. One of us has to graduate, and since I didn't, you will."

I stared at my lap, wishing he hadn't brought it up.

"Don't you even start with that shit about how I could've," he said. "_You_ know why I didn't, _I_ know why I didn't, and we don't need to discuss it again."

It was a sore spot for us both. Every time I thought about it, it frustrated me to tears. He shouldn't have had to drop out when he was so close to graduating just because Dad couldn't put food on the table. I'd hold a grudge against our father forever. Steve was smart enough to graduate. He was probably smart enough to go to college.

He plopped down beside me and messed up my hair.

I slapped his hand away and scowled.

"Jesus, kid, don't you think it pisses me off, too? Of course it does, but something good's gonna come of it."

"What?"

"I've saved up enough money to move out. I've even got a place lined up already. I'll be moving out this weekend."

I wasn't prepared to hear that, but he sounded so happy, I tried to be happy for him. "This weekend?"

He nodded and added, "It's a two bedroom place. I figured you might be happy to hear that—there'll be a spot for you when you stay over."

I had to admit it put my mind at ease to know he figured I'd be over often to offer me the spare bedroom, but there was something suspicious about him. I didn't doubt that moving out was a major milestone for him, but his relative poise when he'd rapidly changed the subject from dropping out to moving out unnerved me.

The Steve I knew would _never_ let it go. At least not that fast. The Steve I knew would hold that grudge against Dad right along with me, but I guess he'd changed.

We all had.

* * *

Thanks for reading this semi pointless epilogue. I'm pleased to announce there's a sequel up immediately following this story. It's called Crossroads and you can find the first chapter on my profile. Please check it out and let me know what you think. :)


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